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30 Day Challenge - Day 3

3. Your day, in great detail.

05:30 - Morning, as always, arrives at the most inconvenient time. Slept in for half an hour and then rushed to get ready for work. Thankfully, it wasn't as savagely humid as it had been yesterday when I stepped outside to catch the bus. It was still uncomfortable Gulf heat though; so dry it leaves you breathless.

07:30 - At work. The first sip of green tea is a blessing.

09:45 - I am knee-deep in emails when my boss needs my help in drafting another one. Did I mention I woke up with a stye in my left eye today? I could barely keep my head up. Fortunately, the final draft passes approval and I am released.

10:02 - Half the team is away on training, so that means twice the work for the rest of us. Things haven't actually gone as bad as I'd expected; it's true that attitude is everything. You might be overwhelmed at the hills of dirty laundry surrounding you when you first start, but then you pick up the nearest pillow-case at your feet and start with that. And then another, and another, until you look around and realize you are done. God, I love Fruits Basket.

13:00 - Lunch and afternoon prayer break. I catch my reflection in the elevator glass and notice the stye has developed a sickly yellow crust. Oh joy. Thank God no one's around to notice.

15:50 - I'm actually done with my cases and sneak in a bit of Candy Crush on my phone.

17: 00 - Home. Finish the leftover seafood pasta from last night. Drink a mug of black tea infused with berries. Check my email and reply to LJ comments. Allowed myself to be distracted by some dorky Kpop celebs: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

18:20 - Drag myself out for a walk and promise myself it will be worth it. On the plus side, there's less cyclists around because it's a weekday. I probably lose around a pint of water thanks to the heat. I listen to a bunch of Jpop to make the pain go away. Everything's possible with anime theme music in the background. I'm so exhausted by the end that I down my entire water bottle in one go.

20:20 - Home again and fresh out of the shower. More internet. Manage to squeeze in the closing lines of my latest Tekken oneshot, which I'll proofread tomorrow. I'll be crossposting to Fanfiction.net and AO3, the latter which I'll be trying for the first time as a writer/publisher.

21:30 - Work prep. The usual quagmire of finding the perfect hijab to go with my work outfit for tomorrow.

22:00 - Update LJ

22:19 - Will probably bullet journal and read a chapter of my current book in bed. I am warm and full and comfy. It's been a good day.

30 Day Challenge - Day 2

2. 10 likes & dislikes.

Likes:
- The raw power of words, the way they free and cage simultaneously.
- Words on print, glistening wet on calligraphy, spray-painted hot neon in an alley, on-and-out flicker of signs at night.
- The in-between moments of thunderstorms, like when you can taste sparks in the air.
- That one moment in that song you currently live for. You know the one.
- A sense of completion.
- But the possibilities of an open ending are wonderful too.
- Pretty girly stationary that I cringe at buying in public.
- Aesthetic tumblr blogs; a guilty pleasure.
- Black, ripped denim.
- The swell of blue noise in your eardrums when you dip your head underwater in a swimming pool.

Dislikes:
- Self-righteousness.
- The color beige.
- 05:30 alarms, no matter how soothing the mobile ring-tone.
- Gossip for the sake of gossip.
- Glasses fogging up and sweat pouring through your shirt from the humidity outside.
- Phones ringing.
- "I'm not like other girls/guys."
- "I'm not racist, but..."
- That moment when you realize the clothes looked better on the mannequin.
- Things which you want nothing more than to forget, but keep turning up anyway.

30 Day Challenge - Day 1

1. Write some basic things about yourself.

On beauty:
A teenage drug dealer films a plastic bag floating in the breeze and calls it the most beautiful thing he's seen. It's American Beauty, white suburban mediocrity packaged in rose petals and Mena Suvari's tits. The one thing that keeps me from fully scoffing is a sight I've held at the core of my beliefs since that day at the beach: there's this matchbox, you see, tossed about in the waves. It fills with water, sinks, miraculously empties, and resurfaces. It keeps that way for as long as I don't tear my eyes from it. It remains, battered and soaked and heavy and adrift, it remains still, with every hit it takes.

And that is why I can't look away.

On illusion:
If I wasn't a writer, I'd like to be a musician. I wouldn't even need to amount to anything great; I just need to feel that tremor in my chest, just the aftermath of what shattered. I don't even need to be good; I just want that fleeting glimpse of beauty, in as many pieces at my feet, before they are ashen, cremated in yellowed pages that fade with each passing year.

On truth:
For as long as I've had a voice, I've had words.

And it was my choice to remain mute.

And now they are rooted in me, ink-blooded and violent, starving for legitimacy. And they are blossoms, and they are thorns, and they are the fruits of twenty five years' worth of reminding myself why I matter. And when they turn bitter, I gather the leaves and let the storm pass, until it's 2 AM, the moon and me, reunited in solitude, joined by the shadows that encroach with morning. 

Coming Soon

Here we go again (snagged from mimoiikit143's journal):

June Challenge!.jpg
Thus, they are now my favorite nation-tan of the moment. (link)

Also, David Tennant gives the performance of lifetime:



But you know who would have absolutely killed it?

19 Gordon Ramsay Insults For Everyday Situations

Review Game/FictionPress Flashbacks



I have FictionPress writing prompts to solely thank for my discovery and now rediscovery of this song.

Enjoy xx

Warning: an alarming lack of Will Smith

So I just found out that Independence Day has a sequel out now:



Will it disappoint me the way Jurassic World did?

Most likely.

In happier news, guess who's heading the Pacific Rim 2 cast?
Given the amount of crap that's being tossed around the news these days, the warm, fuzzy stories that I'd normally insert here in between all the recent negativity are unsurprisingly harder and harder to find. Even the ones that come close have a tinge of cynicism laced through them.

And then there's this:



God bless you, Nash and Tara.

In other news, I am aware that Hiddleswift might be a thing and not gonna lie, I am sorta heartbroken.

Post-Brexit

My cousin, married to a Brit, and a British citizen herself just posted on Facebook that some moron yelled at her to 'pack her foreign c**t home'.

A few weeks earlier, a friend of mine who's based in the US - a Sri Lankan Muslim, like myself - also posted, describing how she and her husband would give each other these cautionary pep talks before leaving the house for work, reminding themselves to stay calm if they had a slur tossed out at them, stay silent and walk straight ahead if they received a dirty look. And then they would hug, just hug it out, because they couldn't be sure that this wasn't the last time they'd be together like this.

In the meantime, the number of posts from LGBTQA Tumblr, fearing for their lives in the wake of Orlando, keep pouring in. Many are staying in the closet. I've seen one stating they wished they'd never left.

To all of my US and UK f-list: you have all of my love and support. I hate that things are happening which none of you deserve.

Noori Just Doesn't Get It

A prime challenge that comes with being a woman of Indian Subcontinental and Southeast Asian origin is men. Not #AllMen, but if there's one thing that growing up in an overwhelmingly patriarchal society teaches you, it's that suffering comes as second nature if you identify as female. And even if it doesn't, you're going to have it thrust upon you regardless.

Also, as a working woman, I can honestly tell you that I have rarely come across anything more fragile than a man's ego. And whoo, there's plenty to pop in a workplace that's abound with rape jokes.

Oh, I wish I was joking.

As my male colleagues would correct me, there's not so much 'rape' involved, than 'molesting'. Just as blood curdling, I'd say.

And the scariest part is that my male colleagues are what most people would define as 'nice guys' for the most part. They're polite to me, help me out when I need it without expecting anything in return, and seem to be caring, doting fathers, brothers, and sons to women and girls themselves. Am I wrong in thinking how fucked up it is casual misogyny - even in jest - manages to coexist with all of the above?

I guess it's no wonder I have trust issues. And a poor sense of humor apparently.

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