Tuesday, 16 January 2018
First day back in the office so effectively first day that counts and I realised I am not totally unhappy about being back in London or the office which is a massive change from previous years where I was often depressed about it and thus wrote more or whinged more, this sprout of positivity I have had over the last year or so is really hindering my creativity, it seems I am more creatively productive when down or angry.
resolution was made by me and my
committee of 7 schizo personalities to try to cultivate a more optimistic and
positive creativity that is not necessarily fuelled by anger, depression or
lack of sex. And so this is the first instalment.
I have managed to drop the kilos that clung to my hips for the last ten years, which gave me a massive boost in energy and
of course now I have a new problem, I can’t shake the boys off my hips!
DAMN! I have also dated
interviewed many candidates over the last year, none of which made it past the
2nd round, on the count of mostly shallow reasons that I won’t
mention here, also men are gross (and NO I have not turned gay).
I found being angry and full of sarcasm was funny until it turned against me, although my writing and sense of humour flourished, my personal life suffered visibly from this and I had to choose between being funny or being happy, such seemingly simplistic and silly choices, but the results have been staggering.
I am so full of positivity these days it’s sickening (note picture above as exhibit A), I have to feign some crankiness sometimes just to trick my mind into spurts or creativity so I am able to continue to contribute to the ongoing dialogue on all aspects/dilemmas of the Algerian woman in London or elsewhere.
I have also since come out of anonymity – on this more news to come J
Until the next happy instalment, Happy New Year from me.
Monday, 10 July 2017
I managed about three days before the red rivers of Lucifer opened up and I had a good excuse as any to take an early breather. Once the 5 customary days (stretched to 6 on the count of one red spot on my knickers) were over I started psyching myself up for the arduous observance of Ramadan but there was no will power to be found, I looked again and rummaged in the abyss of my soul (very deep my soul) to find some willpower but all I found was a tumble weed (insert picture here)! Moving in the desert winds of my soul (insert dramatic music here)!
Trying to understand the why is the real conundrum, I thought of a few answers;
- I have been debating my faith for a few years now and I struggled with it as any of my readers would know, I guess you could say it was only a matter of time before the chasm widened and the jig was up.
- The prevailing atmosphere doesn't help. Islam has such a bad rep nowadays that I thought myself a weakling who got put off by a bunch of faithless terrorists disseminating dogma and terror and calling it the will of God. I am made of sterner stuff that this. So theory dismissed.
- Being alone during such times as Ramadan can be daunting and discouraging when it's a time to be reunited with loved ones, family and friends. Mayhaps...
- Safety in numbers: a good theory as any to use when linking your argument to the power of the many, the many who have lapsed, gave in or never had it (faith that is).
The fact of the matter is I don't know if my faith will ever be restored, if I will horribly regret this one day or if it's gone forever and I shall become the Infidel (roll eyes 👀 ) ...what I know is that I am an adult of mostly sound mind who consciously and publicly decided not to observe one of the 5 pillars of Islam and argues simply this feels ok and also it's none of anyone's business.
Today (well when I wrote this) , Eid is upon us and as ever, I am celebrating it with family and my loved ones and I love it. The way I see it? It's not religious it's cultural (preachers, go nuts now) :D
A belated Happy and blessed Eid to all
Monday, 23 January 2017
I always had high and renewed hopes for the New Year, I always excitedly jot down a list of things I wanted to achieve, countries I dreamed of visiting, kilos I
desperately needed to lose and I go about
my year working on my objectives with such optimism you’d think I was American.
But this year feels different, something is definitely missing…I didn’t even
make a list! I am consumed by something else, less superficial than a few kilos
or some Hollywood-inspired objective.
First day back in London after the long Xmas break, I already know I don’t want to be here and it wasn’t the lack of sunshine or morning coffee at home or the familiar safety of my parents’ house. This time it’s different and I can feel a chasm opening and slowly widening.
As I proceed with my usual work commute, the sky is a dull grey unpunctuated by anything, I can’t see where it begins and where it ends, people are so quiet on the train you’d think they’re on their way to their executions, the only sounds coming through my headphones are coughs, a lot of coughing!
In the office, I sit at my desk and as I look around, I see my colleagues milling around the floor, repeatedly wishing each other Happy new year, nobody knows when it’s appropriate to stop, the media hadn’t spoken on the subject. They sit in front of their screens, they run to meetings, they hold papers in their hands and discuss business, I feel part of the engrenage and simultaneously out of place, something nags at my brain, the feeling of being trapped is strong, like a lab rat, I think of the long hours we’re expected to work for nothing in return but the boss’s own pleasing, of the work-week that seems to be designed subtly enough to send us home lobotomised for the evenings and comatose for the weekend.
Resistance is futile, I am part of this system, this modern society that transformed us into new-world slaves, I am a slave, an agent of the system, a slave to the matrix.
The feeling is stronger in the last few years, all I see is flaws, this modern society model we live in is flawed, it works only to enrich the ruling elites and enslave the masses, full of social conventions put in place to control us, transforming us into sheep. Once you wake up and see it, you can never go back to “normal”....either that....
…or I am getting my period soon!
Friday, 23 September 2016
Love life: No update for you on this front I am afraid but my soulmate is out there, pushing a door that says pull, I just know it, so until such times as sub-zero temperatures in hell, I shall hold on to my
virginity sanity – thank you very much.
My period – still flowing like the red river of doom with cramps that could push a baby elephant out, and that’s ok, because it means I am healthy and young and it means I can always complain about period pain and make people uncomfortable until such times they get over themselves.
My hair – still curly – I refuse to straighten it to look more corporate or more European or mainstream. It’s not a statement, it’s not rebellious and it’s not crazy, it’s just my hair.
It’s all about me.
Friday, 10 June 2016
Many people don’t have a lot of memories of previous Ramadans, except for the distinct and unhappy recollection of hunger, thirst and the long hours of deprivation. But nothing else is noteworthy, nothing else seems to happen in this month, especially when you (not me) spend it horizontally for over ten hours a day!
Last year, was a different story, last Ramadan was a memorable one (not in a good way), last Ramadan Israel was repeatedly bombing Gaza, and as the war in Syria raged on, a gunman opened fire on tourists on a beach in Tunisia (the choice of events and countries is not calculated), the whole world went through the summer in a state of shock, anger, protest and gloom.
This year a lesser disaster is looming, but a disaster nonetheless, England will most probably brexit, during Ramadan…bringing a wave of changes to the whole world and I suspect a lasting memory!
As I cast my vote today (guess which way I voted) I couldn’t help but think of all the things trivial and important that will happen, all the changes, I think of how bored Nigel Farage would be, how it’ll transpire that Boris Johnson is actually Donald Trump’s long lost sibling, probably a brother from another mother, I think about how rude the French are going to be to us when we go on holiday to France (by us I mean Brits not Algerians – they already surpassed their tolerance towards us Algerians), croissants and baguettes will be sold on the black market, Cheese smugglers will rival human smugglers and so many more...I can't bear to think about it!
But I strain to think of how this will affect Algerians and I find nothing! Nothing affects Algerians really, we will survive whatever tidal wave this Brexit will bring on, for now it’s none of our concern though, our imminent concern is the source of the next chorba* and bourek* and where we’ll spend the summer drinking and lazing in the sun after all this observance! Spain or Cuba? whichever doesn't require a visa ...
For now though, up to day 5 and on a more egocentric level...
Energy levels – stable, Sleeping patterns: all over the place, Food ingested: not enough, Water drunk: too much, Days to next period: too many
Dz-chick….for now it’s about breakfast not Brexit
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