Photo essay: Love

Again?

Colour, always colour.

Lust, a mess.

Waiting, for what?

Knowing.

Solitude.

A well of leaves

Just activating the writing muscle. Please, get comfy.

Mind.

"I remember me sat on him as he lay beneath me and we look at each other in peace. Hands locked perfectly and words marrying the sounds of rap melodies. He taps my nose and I shake my head in embarrassment and laugh at the prospect of this attention. I had to wipe the lipgloss off his tender lips as they cushioned my thumb and I held on to the side of his face. My thumb trembling because of the passion not the nerves. Because it was closure because he was a failure at unclipping the clasp but a successor when he eventually did it. 

"I'm bleeding" 

"that's supposed to happen" as I stare at the sin stained on his sheet. I didn't imagine it to be this way. I carry on dazing into his eyes and we kissed like animals in sync, our hearts pumping. The lights off now. The TV screen lit up, their mouths moving but no sound. Our hands a mess, I was caged under. He was confident on top. As we breathed into each other we rolled over and over until our bare bodies lay side by side. My leg held on his. It's not sex. It was sharing pleasure as we dismissed our pain for this one moment. Bliss." 

Synergy.

"Drink in his hand and arm round my neck I felt the spark of something new. The build up to an attraction but too good to be true. November night, alone intoxicated on my sheets drowning in conversations. Questions after questions the curiosity growing like the mould which is left now. Smiles and thoughts filled the air, my palms sweat in anticipation on my thigh. 

"What do you want right now?" 

"In life I..." 

"No. Right now, in this very moment." And a kiss shut me up. Fire blazed, his body got hotter as his hands searched my dress. My hands holding his face before it falls into my breasts. A pause, curtains drawn, little lights flickering, we remove shoes and his layers and we continue with the hum of RnB soul in our hears. I sat on his lap and we drove far away. I saw the wrapper in his hand and I refused the idea. I slept on his chest and his one night stand left me tucked up in my sheets. I dreaded to see him again. Fast forward. Stood beneath a storm of lights as a band plays on stage, "I still have a few films in mind" my mind, heart, body and soul stood still." 

Artistic.

"A Leo. Promised fire and a passion that I couldn't resist. The face of someone I'd lie to. An accent that left me asking him to repeat everything again and again. I stood outside Westfield shopping centre and waited. Next thing I'm on a dark street with my lips massaging his. Our first kiss was inside the club, we danced closely and security only stopped us three times. An engineer was his prospects. Mine were to get out of this sticky situation before I start lying to myself. On his Arsenal sheets we flick through his most wonderful drawings of portraits and a tattooed figure was his next challenge. A unique mind that wanted to create a master piece with me. The flirting was distracted by my fascination with someone else. I lived the moment nevertheless, Real played as I stared into nothingness.

"Would you ever visit South Africa?" "Yes." 

He burnt his foot on the radiator twice. Clumsy man. My heart felt uncertain but my body wasn't. The thought of water- sex, Your favourite colour- Personality, animal- your attraction. Mine was calm, black and a lion. A two week silence and that was it. Over." 

Emojis.

"American Boy as he sat on my chair resting his elbows on my desk. The first time we were in a room together. The face spoke a foreign language. And I'd do anything to be fluent. But seeing through to his heart a wall of ego stood between me and his romance. To ponder now is easy. I knew every word to the song but not every word of his sentences. Awkward silences but comfortable in his arms as we lay and watch the screen. Tight fit so I thought "what next?" Intoxicated on MD, 15% of what happened was only remembered. I can't remember our first kiss but I remember our last. As he slept my fingers entranced by his beauty and they touched every corner of his face to his neck and his chest. My lips quivered. Only a beam of light came through my curtains, the blanket a mess our clothes in a hurricane beneath our storm. My nails buried inside his back and I gasped my pleasure. Fast forward. We stood outside Leicester Square station after I gave him a book for his future. My arms swung in the awkward goodbye between us and I kissed hard, leaving a tinge of purple. His hand on my right hip and I let go of this medley and left with thoughts of "stupid me", "oh well" and "this is defo the last time isn't it." 

Spandex, Wigs and Fishnets

That’s right. Let’s talk drag.

The quiet Saturday nigh-in didn’t happen, instead I went clubbing to explore the antics of gay clubbing and dress up drag!

It’s unclear when drag was introduced in Britain. But definitely after the war, the clubbing culture soared as drinking and music became more accessible. The term ‘drag’ refers to clothing and drag queen means, usually a man, who impersonates a woman. It’s not just about dressing up in dresses and wearing lip stick. There’s something beneath the escapade of glamour and glitter that sparked my curiosity. So as I always do, I went exploring!!!

With a Tequila hum and lemon smacking lips I danced before latex super heroes, dominatrix princesses and a lady in a white meringue dress shouting “I am a Christmas tree!”

Seductive eye contact was exchanged between two women in cat suits as I walked over to the beer frothed bar. The ceiling cluttered with pulsating strobe lights. The DJ mixed his tracks overlooking the crowds of spirits, sweat and saliva. Rihanna ‘Pour it up’ invited some to slut drop, whilst others focused on mastering how not to spill their drink and twerk at the same time. I felt like a stiff pole in comparison to the flamboyant choreography around me. 

I began to observe trends and patterns. 

Before I got too jealous over some woman’s buoyant curls it took me a few seconds to realise it was a wig. Wigs galore, from brunette waves to sleek blonde 24 inch pony tails. Crowd surfing champagne bottles highlighted the faces of theatrical make-up.  But as I lost count of false lashes and lace fronts I began to question... there must be more to this performance right? It’s deeper than what I'm seeing before my eyes, surely?

I was being hugged by strangers and a fat reality check slapped me across my face. How the fuck am I meant to question someone about their life choice? Regardless of whether this was me researching or quenching my curiosity....nah it didn't feel right.

“I’m not exactly a girly-girl, who would have guessed?”

Failure is and was never my best friend. So...with time, I resorted to desk research.

mygendercatharsis.blogspot.co.uk. got me hooked. 

Her blog is used as a platform to express her feelings, I continued to investigate.  Her friendly tone was comforting and so she told me more about what it's like to be a ‘part time girl’.

“I was struggling with depression which was caused in part by the fact I was struggling with my gender identity. I wasn’t out to anyone, and I was feeling trapped.

“Well of course my girlfriend is someone I really love! When I came out to her 9 years ago I wasn’t expecting our relationship to survive but here we are, still going strong! :) I don’t really have any celebrity crushes, but, I do love celebrities who use their image/status to try and change things in the world. Emma Watson’s recent stand for feminism comes to mind, she is an amazing individual, and too cute too!”

I didn’t expect her to mention anything about feminism. Being accepted as a woman in society is one thing, yet after reading this, it fascinated me that she has adopted what it’s like to be a woman politically as well as emotionally.

I was curious to understand her perspective on drag queen culture.

“Well this is the thing, and you’re probably not going to like me for it, but I don’t like the majority of drag queens. The impression I get is that the majority seem to be larger than life caricatures of femininity, rather than a homage of it. They reinforce stereotypes of trans-women being easy targets for amusement and harassment.”

See, from my clubbing experience it is captivating to know that clubbing isn’t the be all and end all. It’s just a leisure pattern that celebrates drag queen culture.

I was itching to get her thoughts on religion.

“What I have a problem with is religious extremists from every religion, people who try and force their view of how their religious text say you should live your life on people who do not believe. Or those who channel such a large amount of hatred to minorities (like me) in the name of their god.” 

How can we change this? Although the drag queen culture and gay clubbing culture is celebrated and advertised in British society, isn't it an issue that discrimination still exists?

“It would be nice just to be accepted at face value as the gender I present as. If I'm dressed as a woman, treat me like one. No glances, stares, "is that a man?" comments behind me, shouts across the room, fear of using toilets, or so on. We do no harm. A lot of people do accept us, but there is a minority that makes things difficult.”

The reality is, discussing the Transgender community is a taboo subject. Even after absorbing more about her I will never understand what it’s truly like. I went into a restaurant yesterday and my waiter had better contouring than Kim K. Could I compliment his HD brows? Would that be offensive? It’s simply an ongoing controversy. Will this change for the better? We can only hope.

“I think strong women are greater role models for women of all ages. I don’t know many superheroes but I would probably be Jean Grey from the X-Men.”

From nudes to skin tones, to skin talks

Today, I sat in a talk which I thought would influence, inspire or entice me to like my supposed career path.

Here we go...

So, as I sit trying to catch my breath as quietly and as subtly as I could, the speaker is sat on the stage with a lecturer from my university in a Newsnight fashion.

At first, I heard “being the only Asian at that time,” he instantly got my attention.

He talked a lot, the questions formed by the lecturer were shit to be honest, “who was your favourite lecturer?” for example, what a time waste. If this was 20 years back is that question still relevant now? No.

I looked around, there was a mix of males and females from all backgrounds listening in to what this talk entailed. Not going to lie, I was waiting for one question. And that one question was brought up at about 13.37 when I was just about to check my notifications on Facebook.

I threw my phone into my bag.

“So I mean, erm so like would you say that the posh Asian girl who went to posh schools and received proper education is more likely to get to where you are at now, I mean working for the BBC etc…” and he went off on a dry ending as he adjusted his choking belt around his pregnant belly.

Hold up though.

“Posh Asian girl?” 

Who’s that pls?.

My neck twitched. My curls now stuck to my lip gloss.

I thought to myself…

Is this dick for real? I’m no toff, but I’m no scrounger either. But wow, that was a big dose of “fuck you”. Number one, what the hell is “proper education”, and two I ain’t from no posh school. So suck on my dick when I sit here knowing fully well I worked my arse to get to where I am, through cultural and religious barriers. Not a silver spoon stuck up my arse and Dr Khan as my dad. I want no medal, but that was insensitive and benefited no one in the room, instead he embarrassed his toff ass and grew pink in his porky cheeks.

“So how did you feel being brown, I mean is that why you got into the positions you did...?”

Lol, “feel being brown” ??  Like it’s a symptom of God’s mishap.

“It’s not about skin colour, it’s about the cultural and social background that you come from.”

I became nostalgic of that one time (in band camp) in year 10, I was pulled into an empty room and was sat at a table of Asian girls, and this one line shrieked in my right ear “don’t end up cooking chapati, we want to see you girls in uni!!” as I sat with sweaty palms and a throat full of phlegm ready to spit at this ethnic representative authority figure.

So I guess now I class as a brown face in university, and perhaps ten years down the line I’ll be asked the exact same question about “feeling brown”. Lol

Back to this talk.

The guy went on to say how he was someone who no one had come across before, he was new something fresh. All because he was a Muslim Asian male, full of ideas to make these controversial, religiously touching and political documentaries.

Okay. I can do that without having a dick.

My conscience spoke to me.

“If you’re from a background where you know you won’t get any help, it’s better to recognise that as early as possible, it’s very important.” 

Okay... 

“If you know you’re from an immigrant background, back then no one gave a shit what you thought about."

Right...

“If you are from a certain social status, or class then you immediately fall into the trap of being disadvantaged in the world of work.”

Yes I fucking get it!

I know the reality but can you give me something to take away from this please?!

Where’s my motivation? 

(Plays Motivation by Kelly Rowland.)

What I wanted to ask before his ass left the auditorium was, “where the fuck do I fit into this?”

I'm an Asian female! Does that mean I can tick a professional’s boxes like he did?

Am I supposed to seek creativity through “keep doing what I'm doing?” cos what the fuck does that mean any more?

“The degree didn't even help me where I am now, it was taking every work experience I could.”

Someone take me!!!

You know what? It fucking sucks having all the passion but no one to push you further. No Asian female that has actually made me go “woah shit, if she can do it then so can I!” Instead I'm seeing Riz Lateef presenting the news looking pretty and Mishal Hussain talking to Syrian political figures. They are symbols of success but…. I don’t see them for who they are, I'm blinded by their BBC microphones for crying out loud!

Instead, I'm behind the bars of higher education, work experience: work for other people so that I can gain a few more bullet points under the “skills” subheading on my CV.

“The BBC employs 12.4% (BAME) staff.” That stands for Black and Asian Ethnic minority people btw.

So you tell me, whether that’s deflating or motivating?

I need my bed. Where’s bae at?

*Realises there isn't one, eats cold pizza and sways to Isaiah Rashid.*

On the road to freedom

It isn't everyday nag, sigh and give up with my mother and I. In fact today I feel extremely proud of her and I shall explain why.

Perhaps patriarchy doesn't play a huge part in modern families in Britain. But, it exists. With consideration to traditional home values in our South Asian culture it's twisting and  turning every so slightly in Britain. Western ideas have indeed awoken new paths for women such as, working, breaking the breadwinner stereotype and smashing the glass ceiling and thriving from factors like education. Women like Nawal El Saadawi and Monica Ali exist, but I want to focus on a woman that I am very much connected to. 

And here I turn to my mother. She flew to the UK at 14 with no understanding of the English language let alone the Western dress code.

Tailoring is also one of her passions and here she is stood at the age of 20, representing 70's print with her brother.

My granddad, her father, migrated to West Ham to work and earn to give back to his family in Pakistan. But, he later thought it was wise to introduce his family to Britain and arranged for them to move here; this was convenient financially and socially. My grandfather, an orphan, wanted to make a change. He built a mosque himself and decided to travel the world. From Germany, Switzerland, Holland, France, Spain, Ghana, America, India, Saudi Arabia, Bangladesh and of course Pakistan. 

Back to my mother. She dropped out of education at the age of 16, cared for my Nan at home whilst her two brothers worked and earned money alongside my granddad. Then she got married and 5 years later, me, I, yes the one and only was born.

Leave me alone. Clearly I stuck to my individualism from a very young age. 

The first four years of my life consisted of wearing dungarees, watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and learning how to say "Michael Schumacher" without stuttering. 

After having four more siblings, life became hectic and family came first no matter what for my mother.

"What did you want to be when you were older?"

"I dreamed of becoming a doctor ever since I can remember. But y'know..." she laughed "life happened."

I love hearing that sentence, I know it didn't happen but it's the dream that brings a silly smile on my face.

Why I'm proud of her? 

Well...I love seeing her doing something for herself. She's so selfless it sometimes breaks my heart to think she doesn't have any leisure time! But when she does...it brings me so much joy! Like, seeing her drive! That's more independence than the average Arab princess in the Middle East.

Today I looked into her eyes and said "come let's drive somewhere."

Her face screamed, no. But I like to think persuading, motivating and luring are my biggest strengths. So, I didn't give up and hell yeah we sat in her car. I was ready. I knew she felt the rush. The kids are at school and it's just me and her. Freedom baby! Engine started, windows down, sun, songs and smiles. That was it. But it gave me great pleasure to push her towards independence. You have to break boundaries. She was alive. That's the beauty of freedom. 

So yeah, fuck you patriarchy. My mother drove on the open roads of kuffar Britain, wearing bright colours and shat rainbows on every stereotype that poisoned her independence. 

What a woman.

I didn't order an Eton Mess?

The one place where the air is thick with toffee syrup, ground coffee and middle class dribble. Costa. I'm with my sister and as usual we look around for two spaces that aren't next to a family, a couple or a mute old man. We join the queue made up of grey haired women, men in suits and now us. As we stand looking like two specs of cocoa in a glass of warm milk my eyes are struggling to read the price list. Yes, I keep forgetting to wear my bleeding contacts. My mind was set on a pot of tea and a lemon muffin. (I definitely recommend it!) So, we stand and sigh as we wait. Then, two boys with silver spoons stuck up their backside join the queue. I didn't think nothing of it until they began to elbow my back as they laughed about their amusing cocaine incident at their last party. See, this is why being short isn't fun. People are often mislead about my height, thinking I'll smile at the idea of being pushed a little and fucking elbowed for that matter. 

I stand containing my anger and finally I order the pot of tea and two lemon muffins. The boys continue to talk so loudly, I don't understand how they were so casual about it but to be fair they were surrounded by their usual environment; the proud middle classes. As the barrister set up my tray, these buffoons thought it was wise to put their stinking sandwiches, innocent smoothies 'what-have-you' in front of my tray. Now look, like I said, I am short. I can't reach the tray to save my life. 

"Would you please excuse me, I can't get to my tray"

"hahahahahahahah oh shit"

"Did I say something that upset you?"

"hahahahahahaha" the two Tesco value blocks of butter were in hysterics.

Spraying their spit. 

"well?"

Both gave a look of *wtf* and *who does this thing think she is?*

Fuming, but nevertheless we sat down next to this Portuguese man and my sister sat opposite me. I take a look around. No one's brown. Does this effect me? Yeah, because I was put in a situation where I fought the stink of internalized racism. Being laughed at just because a brown girl spoke back. No one understood that one very moment of being undermined. Do you think the same would have happened if I was white? No it wouldn't have. What got to my tits the most was eavesdropping their conversation as they rejoiced their mums at the table behind us.

"ahahahaha, and she was like..."EXCUSE ME" who does she think she is?"

"I know, all she had to do was lift the tray over our food, so stupid"

"Why would you even say that to us?"

"hahahahaha, oh just leave it hahaha" one of the mums concluded.

Good thinking bitch. 

You may question why I was passive to the situation itself but to be honest my mind was dealing with more important shit at the time. Besides, my sister kept me sane by grabbing my hand and warning me not to turn around. But can you fucking blame me? People laughing at my expense and for what? 

It's true. I'm sat in an Italian established coffee shop which gave birth in 1971, London. I wouldn't know how a non-white person would feel in that time and place. Ah yes, time and place. Maybe these factors are to blame for why the shop wasn't full of non-white people. This particular coffee shop was on top of a book shop. Oh yes!! that explains it (!). The uneducated, problem causing, terrorist talking non-whites aren't found in places like these you see (!). They prefer to sit by with blue collared jobs whilst their women produce babies and orgasm over patriarchy (!). My only message to those two Eton mess' is fuck you. Fuck you and I hope you choke on your next popodom and whilst you're at it shove another silver spoon up your arse until you're in so much agony that you need to call your Pakistani private doctor "Dr. Shah" to leave you with a fat bill, leaving your Barclays saving's account to a minus four digit figure. 

What's on my mind...

let me tell you.

I walk around these days, noticing fashion evolve into some crazy shit, most of it is dry and the rest is moist. But there's just one thing that gets on my tits. 

I sat on the train and everyone starts to stare at my hand. I had drawn a henna design the day before, and so yes there is a creative doodle on my hand which everyone ate with their eyes. I over heard a girl once talk to her bestie "oh my god, like they do this semi-permanent tattoo and i'm gonna get one like on my back, it's so sick and now "___" wants one too". Really? really? you ain't seen a henna tattoo before? 

Okay, so what? Henna tattoos are a thing and always have been since people love to get them especially on holiday. But my argument is...tradition has only just become noticed and then made into a trend.

Another example. Bindis. Now look, I have nothing against it and I'm not Hindu myself, it's just the idea of girls wearing them as an accessory. Perhaps no one gives a shit whether or not it stands as a fashion statement or a religious statement. But it's something to think about.

Rosary beads...now are they religious or do you wear them cos your boy Emz is rocking a glow in the dark one?

Different clothing brands also like to print Indian gods onto their garments as a means of looking hipster and cool. Now, there do you disagree or agree? 

I'm just waiting for the day that the queen rocks a diamond encrusted burqa, perhaps that'd stop me questioning semi-religious fashion statements. Who knows.

It's Fathers Day

I loved this top as a five year old, I was a diva.

"You're dressed like a tramp" said Dad.
"Thanks, I get it from you" I replied.

Fathers Day.

See, I have never celebrated it. Not because that's a sign of hatred or self loathing, it's just I don't do it.
Even with Mothers Day. Yeah, the kids make a card and sign their names blah blah, but my names always absent.

I show my love for my mother in every situation that I can. Whether that be in appreciation for something, or helping her, or even talking to her with kind words. I think that's what means most to me. I value the little things not the big commercial present with a label attached and the price scribbled out. We all show our love/affection in our own ways.

Tough Love.

Have you heard of it? I believe everyone's relationship with their parents is personal. Extremely personal. Therefor nah, I won't tweet or instagram a happy family portrait to signify my love in a picture. What for? Likes? Comments? It's all a facade.

Perhaps you're reading this thinking "damn this is deep". Well yeah, of course it is?!

I can't wait to be a parent myself. It'll be that one chance to maybe hinder the experiences I have had, take the moments I've had, the things I have seen and felt towards my child. Towards bringing them up in this world in my way. To make them feel absolute happiness that I maybe crave for but fear.

Finishing my first year at uni

(Note: 23/05/2014)


Within the first year of uni, there were lots of expectations that I didn't think would come along with the experience.


I didn't think I would click with two friends I didn't think I would make friends as easily as I have. I didn't think I would build my wall of a career that doesn't really seem solid at the minute. I didn't think I would bump into people that may potentially be in the rest of my life. I didn't think I would be handling money the way I am now. I didn't think I would be laughing as hard or falling as hard as I have a few times within this year. I didn't think it would get so deep that I would shed a tear and I didn't think I would abandon people who actually meant something so strong.


As loud as I have been the entire year was so silent. In a sense that now, sitting on this burgundy leather sofa in Sainsbury’s I can hear everything getting louder. I can hear children crying, I can hear a middle age crisis but above all I can hear myself. I'm screaming "why” Why did I experience the things I have, and why to such an extent that I have grown so much. Not in height, but in my mind I feel so much wiser. I feel like the experience has made me tougher than ever before. I have lived away from my family, my own mother, the one woman who introduced me to the world. This world of terror. Absolute terror.


I don't write these thoughts down so that one day they can be published. I write them because I truly feel that my words speak louder than anything that I say. At times like this, I have spent so much time understanding, I have spent so much time listening, I have then contemplated 'doing' and well let's say this is my journey.


A chapter of my journey that is soaring through thick pages. The pages are getting heavier and I'm getting tired. I just hope that something comes along and motivates me. I have a fire but it's not bright enough. "Hell is hot and fire is proven" words of Kendrick Lamar.


Yeah well, I'm feeling the fire, so I guess I was born on Mars.

My motivation is going up and down

Okay time-out.

Let me just switch my phone off and think for a second.

I don't communicate well when I feel things getting on top of me. So I believe the best way to deliver my thoughts is to just write on here.

I have been through many applications and interviews lately, specifically within the journalism spectrum but I just have this feeling. Like, this feeling of not getting it. I don't care if you're rolling your eyes as you read this but I help the way I feel right now. Opportunities are endless, yeah..well so is disappointment. I mean, I know that's part of the journey to success. You're supposed to fail continuously until you reach that level of content. But, it's so much to handle. I have my mind set on just getting a position, somewhere, I don't give a bollocks if there's money or no money.

"I used to care about money until I realised money doesn't care about me." - Skepta

Yeah, I just read that on my twitter feed. It's so accurate for me right now.
I don't even know where I will be living next year.
I don't know where I want to go with my degree.
I don't know who's supporting me and who's not.

That's the confusion I feel right now.

I went for an interview yesterday and I was asked if I have a blog. I answered yes. Referring to my other blog which I use as a platform to showcase my work at university. Of course I know I should expand on it more. But, really? I am so indecisive. It takes time for my mind to settle for something.

Right now, I know I can't wright. I just know I can't. Even the people yesterday said my title ideas weren't so captivating yet the content sounds like it has potential.

Well...what the fuck does that mean. Just tell me i'm shit and i'll be gone with the wind. (fabulous).

My writing style isn't for the elite. It's just how I write. I write how I want to.
And if I feel incredibly passionate about something I write even better.

So what the heck. Lord knows where I am going with this right now. But I just want to get it right. I just want someone to finally realise "fuck, she's serious".

Being online

I mean, these days we are constantly fixated with our phones, whether we have a notification or not, we will always try and force ourselves to post things whether that be on Shitter, Facebook, or SnapShat etc.

I don't mean to say this is a bad thing, of course it reflects that in our society today we are just simply boring people, we have the time to share what we are thinking, saying & doing all the time. But I don't see what is so revolutionary about that? Why is that a good thing. Like, say if I was really hungry why do I find myself tweeting 'I'm so hungry ffs'. Like, why is that normal? Another thing I never understood was... when people got into relationships...they would make it official on Facebook. Okay...but like...why? Does the online community really need to know? Has word to mouth expired or some shit?!

Back to what I was initially saying...I value the world, you know living without a frikin' phone in my hand. I like that I can be away from it and not have to care who's just Whatsapp'd me or whatever.

I am saying all these things whilst laughing in my head because I just think we have all gone insane. Before, if we wanted to catch up with someone we'd see them and then *boom* what you know...you start to converse and voilá. But being online is so shady ahahahahahaah. It's to the point where it's pathetic, like people truly start to take shit personally.

If you unfriend, unfollow, or block someone it reflects that you hate them...but nah, I just wanted to clean up my news feed "uno". And...just the concept of being able to indirect people. The online word is so free to expose, indirect, make shit go viral...take Mimi's sex tape for example...she's clearly missing her boo Stevie J, then "oh look" Joseline Hernandez floods instagram of her draped all over Stevie J.

It's just corruption, we're made to believe this is just getting with the crowd, fitting in...but like nah. I'd rather play snake for entertainment and write letters to contact people. Imagine that. But yeah anyway, this whole post was just for a rant's sake.

Of course I'll check my phone in due time. #Hypocrite

Asma's Room ft reflecting - Big Driis remix

If I said I am content with everything in life right now I'd be lying, so instead I shall say I think I am very aware of my desperation to bring some changes into my life.

It sounds dramatic, but I believe the changes will be dramatic and therefore I won't go back and change what I have just said. Enough waffling.

I came home for the Easter break as any normal person would do. Ofcourse I missed my family very much, considering moving to university means you reply on conversing with friends and total strangers most of the time. Being at home just means you can have that comfortable feeling again, that feeling where you can be lazy without feeling guilty. All my work is now complete, I just hope that I go back to some good grades in recognition of my hard work. I'm not even being cocky, it's the pure fact that I put my heart and soul into my work, whether that was a small feature or a 2,500 word count.

It's kinda hard to come home and just go on about university and the things that come with it. Firstly, the educative side then the social side and then the personal side. As a 19 year old, I feel a little more independent because you understand that not only are you more of an adult, you have to be wise with your energy. Nah, I'm not trying to say my knees are getting weaker but just on the whole I do feel like I am getting exhausted pretty quickly. Especially when you know fully well that you haven't settled anywhere yet.

Getting into university was amazing. It's just when you come home you realize there are still strings attached. You aren't away yet. Not at all. Basically being away from home is just a physical reminder that I am moving forward so the flip side is, being at home is a emotional reminder that I really ain't.

On that note, it's only wise to think positive. I have never said that in my life to be fair, I dislike the word 'positive' very much because it's like you're masquerading what you truly feel. So let me re-phrase. It's only wise to think realistically. 

This means keep myself busy and continue to build on the blocks that I can see before me.

*looks out the window and laughs*

It's just funny because I know exactly what I was doing this time last year and what an emotional waste. People say you can look back on your past and learn from your mistakes but I don't believe in that...I believe you don't learn...in fact you recognize. You recognize that you have changed. Changed for the better.

Idris Elba is now a father to Winston Elba who was born yesterday. Just thought i'd slip that in because it actually made me so happy. Like really happy...isn't that weird? Isn't it weird that someone who doesn't even know you can make you happy and they have no idea. haha.

If they are all rich, does that mean I am poor?

March

You know what, whether your name is Victoria Rose Smith or Shaniqua Glory we are all women at the end of the day.

I say this because I am just reflecting on my day you know. I attended an Asia House Fair which was held on New Cavendish Street in London. Okay, so this was actually to assist my friend Lauren who was documenting the event as part of her project. But see, that wasn't the issue because when I heard about it I was more than happy to go along.

The observing started as soon as we stepped foot into the place.

Okay first, yes the doors were thick Matt glass with golden embossed handles. As soon as you walk in you see a stall with prestige jewelry, then you just can't help but freeze as you notice the price tags screaming "£200". Anyhow, that wasn't the case either, because to be honest the place was beautiful. On your right there was a room converted into a café serving wine, wine and wine. So, as you would, we carried on walking to the next room, the door way inviting us to warm colours of browns and golds: this room represented textiles from Turkey.

Now..I am dressed in a jumper, black jeans and black trainers, Lauren was dressed in all black with a denim jacket. Our lipstick was fine, so what was the issue you ask? well...

You had Patricia on your right talking to Evangeline about her pin tucks, in front of you there was Geraldine talking to Rose about her wine and her collectibles of ceramic buttons at home. Johnathan and Henry were stood observing the paintwork of the golden staircase, Isabel was asked what she wanted from the stall of  hand made Kazakhstan scarves to which she replied "I like this one mummy" smiling and twirling without creasing her boots.

Yes, this was just entering a madhouse of elites because they had money to spend, I get it.

What I don't get is when I am told things about myself through the eyes and words of others. This is what I mean. So...I am conversing with a Japanese woman who is showcasing some hand made jewelry, very delicate and sophisticated. I decide to look at the most striking bracelet, a giant green stone was surrounded by chunky white stones and I was simply like 'dayumm' but she added "perhaps not your style".

Okay number one, you are judging by what I am wearing at that particular moment in time to suddenly know what my 'style' is. Two, was there any need? Three, why am I undermined like that?

Okay big deal, I honestly don't care, but I just wanted to add that.

Then, as I left the room a woman half my height, spectacles balancing on the tip of her nose with a full fringe bumped in to me. She looked up into my face like she was about to spit on me.

An Indian woman in a black striped suit, probably in her late 50's stood in crimson lipstick and her hair in a tight bun. We asked whether it was possible to interview her she simply tuned her back on us and said "no."

A lady behind a stall showcasing crafts from Kashmir, Sindh and India tried to tell me what India is. Do I look like I can't spell Geography? I just don't get why there was this attitude to automatically undermine us.

I will not lie, yes we stood out, not because we were walking around with a Cannon in our hands, but purely because we looked young, broke-"er" and clearly had "no idea" what these people were talking about.

Just because you can talk well, elaborate your vowels and wear cashmere doesn't mean you're more educated than me in any way. Yes, your daughter may be in private school right now, so what? Yes, your hair was cut at the salon and mine was simply brushed, so what? Yeah, I am not representing Cartier on my wrist but you are, so what? Money is a staple, the way it fuels power into people is crazy.

Elites turning their nose up at me is no bother, I don't give a crap that they have money to make it rain. I know that once I have money like that I will earn it, through means where I know I have worked hard. When I attended this even today, I looked around like..yeah but what do you do for yourself? Apart from inheritance where has the money come from? And more importantly is everything about you is money, do you still stand for anything without it?

Just this competing battle between the rich and poor is an ongoing issue. Rich people and poor people will forever shape society in one way or another. To think richer people hold more power is what sickens me, and to think poor people are powerless is just insane.

The experience was moving and empowering. You know what, it only made me want to prove people wrong even more. At the end of the day they don't know where you will be in 5 years time, your success is in your hands, not their words.

Affection and attention

Affection and attention.

If you could only choose one which one would it be?
What's more important to you, emotion or image?

You're constantly noticed for your looks, than asked how you're feeling.
And I don't mean the 'you good?' in fact I mean 'how was your day?'

Because I mean...can you remember the last person who complimented on your looks or the person who asked how you were?

Maybe you're thinking does it even matter?...I think it does.
Because it helps you answer that one question: What do you want?

And to be fair, I have never been asked that before and if I was asked that right now I know which one I'd go for. It would be affection, as attention is disposable. You reply 'thank you' and your ego grows an inch.

Affection builds, it grows and it's something real. It clears your mind, a bit like green tea. haha.
It makes you stronger. And it's pure.

Attention is addictive, the day you get 11+ likes on a Instagram picture, it only creates the expectation to get more likes next time. Poor example, but you know what I mean.

When you don't get affection you get lonely and you rely on attention.
When you don't get attention you're disappointed and it makes you angry.
But you try again and again to get attention so you end up with affection.

See...you seek attention to get affection.
You can't seek affection to get attention, because when you have affection you no longer need attention.

It's getting confusing now isn't it. Okay I'll just leave you with that. X

Why listening to Jhene Aiko made me think

Somehow I'm really connected to Jhene Aiko and I'm thinking about why.

Hmm, it's getting sunnier these days isn't it? I am sure the weather effects ones mood. Urgh, I should be getting on with so many tasks right now, I have an essay, two presentations, an evaluation and a review. The idea of writing within journalism is a daunting one, I like to talk...but putting speech into words is quite tricky. Like right now I am writing how I think...and the way I think is so random. The sentences that you have read so far don't connect at all, in fact if I gave this to my old English teacher she would re-boot her computer straight away.

Things are looking busy these days actually, and this isn't just work wise, just in general. Yeah, it's so obvious to say 'there aren't enough hours in the day' but that's not what I mean. I think there are enough hours..it's just the way you use them. At the minute I am using it wisely..but it's a slow process. I'm an immediate person when it comes to change...sometimes I prefer change to hit me like a brick wall, because that way I have no time to think about getting over it? You know what I mean.
 (ah shit I think I am going off in a tangent.)

But...you know what, I'm not going to re-write everything because to be honest that wouldn't be a true reflection of me. I don't go back and erase things..that's just weird. I like flaws because that's what makes you different. I mean if we were all perfect, there'd be no substance, and that would mean we all end up liking the same shit and hating the same shit. We'd become minions of conformity.

Yes. I got it. I think right now I am fixated on the idea of going out my way to 'do me'. That sounds crazy right? I'm bored of lefts and rights..I want to jump of the path and make my own because the path's too long and boring for me.

I don't know whether you can relate, but if so I just think concentrating on yourself should come first sometimes.

Okay, back to my chocolate digestives and my work. Bless.

I am TalkTalk you are Lebara

Perhaps this issue doesn't bother you, well this is something that certainly gets on my nerves. And I applaud you if you can relate...

Ever sat in a room, whether its a classroom, a social group, any group really where someone asks a question that you know the answer to...but you don't want to say it.

I'm a loud mofo, I will talk all day long, yet ironically I hate long phone calls...anyway..my point is..

these past few weeks I have tried the "let me be a little reserved" as I believe you should always experiment with yourself. And so, I decided to stay quiet a little, I didn't say shit in class. I simply looked around to see whether anyone actually talks. Nah, nope no one. Of course there's the occasional one or two people who are always answering the question (that gets on my tits), but on the whole..no one. No one. No one says shit.

Then I wonder why.. why why why, could it be they are shy...but you are here to study journalism..
could it be they know the answer but don't want to say anything because that would seem uncool...erm but if looking cool is prioritized over your study then that's a bit weird...
could it be they're hungover?...okay fair enough
scared of whether your answer is wrong?...who cares man, everyone else isn't right all the time,
language barrier?...well your arse is in England now so fix up
sore throat?...yeah right
want to let everyone else do the talking?...how will you let your self be heard then?
bored of this long list?...yeah so am I.

But see, I simply don't understand, I can't stand silence in a room full of people, that's just wrong. I mean I know of some people that are so vocal on Twitter and what have you...but when it comes to real life...your personality is dandruff.

That's all I wanted to address, other than that I have so much work on my shoulders right now, so till next time...peace out.

Drugs

Yeah I wish I was talking about Paracetamol too, but I'm not. Its this MD cocaine, stuff that goes into your brain, numbing you for that good 6 hours malarky. What bullshit.

Why is there the need to start, is it the buzz? or the kill? cos its only fun now, but what you gonna do when you're addicted. Yes, this drug craze has been around for ages, I'm not trying to say this is something new. But it's the fact that I am seeing it now...

It has only just become visible to me, at first I thought 'yeah people do drugs' however I didn't know it was so many of them. These days people are smoking or sniffing..what next injecting and selling? Who knows where you'll end up you know.

Yes, I get it, some of us will just do it on the rare occasion because that one mate is with you and you feel like it'd be silly to say 'no'. Fine. However the thing that scares me the most is when people become reliant.

You will no longer want a sober hour in your life, because that one hour you will have to face your troubles and you will have to feel stress. So...if you take the drug then all your problems gooo awayyyyy and your happpppy soooo happppy.

-quit tripping-

nah, it's a scare, a real scare, people are no longer satisfied with their life, depression will be the worlds no 1 disease and oh shit how will we cope?!

Fuck knows, but looks like everyone will be jumping on a drug soon. It's a shame.

Not ALL people...but like seriously is that how you value your life...the one thing you do own.

People have their reasons, but no reason should force you to put your health or life at risk. No reason.

Observing on the London Midland

8.33pm 17 dec mon

Wow currently just sat here on a London midland train and oh for goodness sake as much I adore the arabic language..the people are just so loud. My headphones are in however I just cannot deafen their 3's I can't do it. Hahaha they were actually taking pictures with a Samsung phone (which I am used to because of Lauren) the sound of the flash and even worse... the flash itself just blaring out and reflecting in the window. I am sat here with my body turned to my right and I can just see everything they are doing in the window. I am also pretty sure that they were laughing and saying Astagfirullah when I put my headphones in. That was pretty comedic I have to say. I am sat in a double seat with two seats in front facing me. On those two seats are two Chinese women who are currently checking me out as I type ever so quickly, yep. That's me. Pro. I'm sure in their mind they're thinking ..*what a long text* but nahh

This is just me writing all my thoughts down and I can hear this dude on my left look this way. Yeah I should reach my destination in about 40 minutes. I am tired, having dragged myself with three bags full of my belongings.
I am sure the men think I am Arab, the man next to me keeps wanting to look at my face and it's just not working because I keep looking into the window even more. I just heard the two words 'listening Arabic' oh my.. I don't even know LOL.
*looks into window* 
Oh the man in my sight is on the phone. The Chinese women sat in front of me are dressed weird. One in a leopard print bomber jacket and the other wearing bright pink converse. Hmm.
The man's phone is running out of battery haha. He just said 'B minus' perhaps he's a doctor? He looks like one.
I am listening to Pusha T's album. And just smiling at the thought of eating home made food made only by my mothers hands. Beautiful.
He just said 'terminal 4' maybe someone is traveling here to join them, it definitely sounds like they are on holiday. 
See I would have converted all these thought into a 140 character tweet but I have run out of internet.
The white man that was sat with them has left at the stop 'Berkhamsted' so the other men have moved up and are in my view too. 

Okay enough of writing I think the Chinese women may start to think I am mad or something haha. Wow what a semester, my first semester. L, C, J, O, J. 

Arabs are good looking aren't they.

Yeah, it's been a heaven of a journey, can't wait to relax and f around with my siblings! Ah I'm smiling. Family then friends. That's what I didn't get before. Now I do. 
My Extra Ice chewing gum is giving me a brain freeze and an appetite. 

Okay till next time. Deuces London. ️

Spark of Emotion

He actually misses me damn what a pity, I can't get over how much that has hit me.
I think I sit here and just wonder 'does he really miss me?'
Or is it just a front like that usual mystery.
How I sit here and think if things were different,
How I sit here and think is that the love I miss?
Tears actually form as I sit here and think this
Cos I know I'm just human, and I have no witness
To understand my pain, and what I went through
from my sister crying and making me cry too
for so long I have wondered if I will get that love
the one where you hold on forever, but that ain't enough
for some people, pride and image is what they claim
to seek, as I learnt exposing my feelings was the shame
What a shame. Who to blame. Perhaps we're all just the same.

I want a lesbian friend

Okay okay before I start working on my Media and Society essay. Just one thing.
Regardless of having to go outside due to a fire drill, I was interested in a conversation between these three girls in front of me as I stood against the wall with my hair hiding all the 'natural beauty' I was revealing.

She threw away her cigarette box as she lit the last one she had in her hand, and she started talking. At first it was the generic thoughts of everyone at that present time, i.e why are we out here at this time of the morning when we can't see nor smell a fire. Then she started talking about a dream, which she then corrected herself, saying she had a nightmare.

The two girls that stood with her were smoking as well, one had finished hers and the other was half way through it. Ash was flying my way but I was too intrigued by her nightmare.

"I had a nightmare that you cheated on me." This is when my brain clocked, lesbian. She went on...
"Yeah I thought you cheated on me by sleeping with her" *she pointed at the girl stood next to her*
"Then I asked you in real life and you were like 'oh nahh I'm not a bad person I wouldn't do that', but then I said 'yeah but you were a bad person in my nightmare'!" *they all start laughing*

It's a small thing isn't it. A small detail of my day that I actually found interesting. You see, I am guilty of living in this world where everyone is so different that I have no time to stop and realize, 'ah shit'.

I found it so cool, like I never stopped to think, (this is not me being patronizing or naive) ofcourse I know there are gay relationships, but I didn't think of it as a serious matter. I'm just being honest. I am straight and single lol so I don't ponder on these kinda issues. But yeah, it got to me.

Recently I actually wrote about the ethical issue of the lack of lesbians on screen. How they are underrepresented in the media and whether this will change.

I agree to an extent, but I am a realist, so my argument is...no one really goes on screen and says "hi, today you are watching ____ and my name is _____ and oh btw I'm straight! Or by the way I am single, or married, or female, or gay." You know what I mean?

It's not the first thing you say, perhaps for some people certain aspects of their persona are important to them, I think what you feel is important about yourself, is when teachers would say "Okay, we're going round the class, introduce yourself with your name and two things about you"

Ironically I do not remember what I used to say because I am confident that I'd change my answer every year. Interestingly, If I was asked that now, in this moment in time, I'd say..

"Hi, my name is Asma, I am 19 and I currently I am in my first year at university."

How boring right?

But I think they are the two things important to me right now. I dunno why.

But yeah anyway, back to my essay reading on 'How does the media challenge/reinforce traditional ideas about gender?' which requires reading 8 sources, oh boy.

Reality just Sharquisha'd me in face as I realize I only have one chocolate digestive left.

Fun.