I can't tell if I've returned FROM Neverland, or actually just wound up there lately. I've been thinking a lot.
Retranslate: I've been daydreaming a lot. Not necessarily thinking about what direction my life should take, even though that is necessary, but I've certainly granted myself the luxury of thinking about what I should like to do and what I should like to have without much thought for the consequences or even the likelihood. I'm not bogging myself down with too much thinking but don't worry, I won't neglect thought for the consequences if I actually do get round to doing anything.
This summer I've realised how much I love make up. Not wearing it, but using it. On an everyday level, I realise 'make-up' is perceived as a beauty tool. This makes me snort slightly indignantly. It is true that most people use it to enhance their features and this is what it is advertised for in the mainstream - get flawless looking skin, thicker eyelashes, rosier cheeks, fuller looking lips, etc. This isn't what draws me to it. Make up can be used to camoflage, to create an illusion using different colours and shades. It might be usually used to make women look more youthful but it can be used to make someone look paler, darker, older, bald, wrinkled and utterly undesirable!! Make used for photography, for HD television and video is hugely different from make up styles used for stage and theatre. Things like face painting, body painting is much larger scale, usually a lot more dramatic but its still a part of make up artistry. Special effects make is amazing - burns, bruises, grazes, cuts and then they go into prosthetics.
Ok, so all I've done is bridal style make up for a couple of people and that is definitely 'beauty' work and its fun, I like it but I also realise that actually, if I could go further and do more, that would be even MORE fun!! :D Picking up new skills on the way, learning about the different materials used. One thing that always keeps make up exciting is that your rarely working with the same 'canvas'. Everyone has different facial features, different colour tones and different texture of skin. Applying make up like a pro involves understanding colour theory just as well as any other artist. More perhaps, as most painters / sketchers, choose the material they work on - paper, glass, fabric, etc.. A make up artist has to work with the subject they are given and there are actually so many different skin tones and shades so understanding colour thery and being about neutralise and mix colours is vital to good work. (Ladies, this is why it can be SOOOOOO damned hard to find the perfect foundation!!)
Anyway, so that was a ramble but what can I say, colours and brushes make me happy! Strangely so, I'll admit. However, I have started to think that the best contribution a person can make to this world involves understanding themselves, the strengths / weaknesses and their passion in life. Talent and enthusiasm should not be wasted. Right?
Yeah, so I've allowed myself to be youtubing, yes youtubing! and googling of course to learn about different products and brands. This is the kind of stuff that would cost me A LOT of money to go and figure out first hand. Cosmetics are expensive!! Especially the ones worth having. And professional make up that is designed for TV, stage and theatre... Crazy expensive. They make the local art and crafts store look like a charity shop!
Ah the art supply shops. I loved them soooooo much as a kid and I think even now, if I was let loose in one of those shops, I would go wild :D so I suppose I always had it in me, the whole interest in arty farty business, its just I could never go anywhere or do anything with it thanks to cost issues. Now, it is different. I have a set amount of money that is my 'own' to spend as I will. Well I have money.... full stop! Not right now at this moment, but compared to the budget I grew up on.... yeah. Significant difference.
So now that I've had my little epiphany, what shall I be doing...? This is what I need to figure out. I guess I'll keep my little bloginder posted :)
Tuesday, 4 August 2009
Saturday, 11 July 2009
Getting worse before it gets better
Sometimes life's going downhill right? But it has to get worse before it gets better. We know it, we learn from experience and we learn to accept this matter. There are some events in life that we cannot fully control. Like sneezing when we have a cold. There are however certain things we do have control over. When we realise we're doing badly in our studies, we can study harder or get help. When the food we cook tastes raw, we can cook it a bit longer. When its something simple, we tend not to make the same mistakes over and over again.
Right?
Wrong! In my case, I manage to screw something up so bad even when its gradually done and for some reason I don't stop screwing it up till I've hit rock bottom. Till I'm ready to cry. I baffle myself. I really do. How is it, I can almost step outside of myself, look at things fairly objectively, but then completely FAIL to put any kind of resolution into action. Like even now? What happened to my resolve of going to sleep earlier? So I can get up at human hours... its not the small things I do or fail to do which is bugging me, its what it says about me, about my character. I have no will power. Or rather I haven't learned to use it!
I'm so pathetic that when I do the simplest tasks - laundry, tidying my room, etc. I get so impressed with myself that I somehow think its ok not to do anything more. I am such a coward that I hide from the truth, not afraid just to hear it, but also to reveal it. I'm afraid of the consequence and yet this fear wasn't enough to prevent me from allowing the same events to pass that I'm now afraid to speak of. I know when I speak of allowing things, it sounds like it was in my power. Yes I know that the ultimate power lies with Allah and so whatever is meant to be will be. What I'm condeming is my lack of effort, for surely Allah rewards effort and sincere intentions, both of which I am evidently lacking.
I pray that Allah gives me the strength to not only face, but to conquer the challenges that life brings before me. Its been too many a time that I've failed. In so many ways. I feel very strange. Meaning what I am feeling now is not an emotion I can pinpoint and name. Its something like anxiety, its something like a premonition. Like there is something I should be understanding, something I need to be doing, but I don't know what it is. I don't know what to do.
May Allah grant me some understanding. There is so much I need to do. So much time that I can't make up for. Its hilarious you know, the saying 'making up for lost time'. It shouldn't exist, because there is no such thing. Time once you've lost it, is gone. There's no making up for it. It might not become too late to accomplish the task you set yourself within a given time, but time wasted.... is wasted. And once it goes, we become all too aware of what we could have done with it. How much we could have done, and how much we have lost. How much we don't have a right to complain when we 'don't have enough time'. Perhaps we do have the time, we just deprive ourselves of the barakah within it. Everything that is without Allah's barakah, is insufficient, is unsatisfactory.
Sometimes it is the hardest thing, to go before Allah and ask. Ask for everything good. Everything I know I don't deserve and yet... what is there to gain by remaining silent? Even if I were to 'deserve' something, and Allah alone would be the judge of that, why should it be given if I don't ask. After all is said and done, everything in creation is at Allah's mercy - the righteous as well as the sinners. May Allah have mercy upon us all
Right?
Wrong! In my case, I manage to screw something up so bad even when its gradually done and for some reason I don't stop screwing it up till I've hit rock bottom. Till I'm ready to cry. I baffle myself. I really do. How is it, I can almost step outside of myself, look at things fairly objectively, but then completely FAIL to put any kind of resolution into action. Like even now? What happened to my resolve of going to sleep earlier? So I can get up at human hours... its not the small things I do or fail to do which is bugging me, its what it says about me, about my character. I have no will power. Or rather I haven't learned to use it!
I'm so pathetic that when I do the simplest tasks - laundry, tidying my room, etc. I get so impressed with myself that I somehow think its ok not to do anything more. I am such a coward that I hide from the truth, not afraid just to hear it, but also to reveal it. I'm afraid of the consequence and yet this fear wasn't enough to prevent me from allowing the same events to pass that I'm now afraid to speak of. I know when I speak of allowing things, it sounds like it was in my power. Yes I know that the ultimate power lies with Allah and so whatever is meant to be will be. What I'm condeming is my lack of effort, for surely Allah rewards effort and sincere intentions, both of which I am evidently lacking.
I pray that Allah gives me the strength to not only face, but to conquer the challenges that life brings before me. Its been too many a time that I've failed. In so many ways. I feel very strange. Meaning what I am feeling now is not an emotion I can pinpoint and name. Its something like anxiety, its something like a premonition. Like there is something I should be understanding, something I need to be doing, but I don't know what it is. I don't know what to do.
May Allah grant me some understanding. There is so much I need to do. So much time that I can't make up for. Its hilarious you know, the saying 'making up for lost time'. It shouldn't exist, because there is no such thing. Time once you've lost it, is gone. There's no making up for it. It might not become too late to accomplish the task you set yourself within a given time, but time wasted.... is wasted. And once it goes, we become all too aware of what we could have done with it. How much we could have done, and how much we have lost. How much we don't have a right to complain when we 'don't have enough time'. Perhaps we do have the time, we just deprive ourselves of the barakah within it. Everything that is without Allah's barakah, is insufficient, is unsatisfactory.
Sometimes it is the hardest thing, to go before Allah and ask. Ask for everything good. Everything I know I don't deserve and yet... what is there to gain by remaining silent? Even if I were to 'deserve' something, and Allah alone would be the judge of that, why should it be given if I don't ask. After all is said and done, everything in creation is at Allah's mercy - the righteous as well as the sinners. May Allah have mercy upon us all
Sunday, 24 May 2009
Just another day, it started out like any other...
Today was nothing out of the ordinary. The sunshine looked deceitfully promising so I stepped out of the house geared up in black trousers to defend myself against the terrors of the wind, black jilbaab to match the clouds when they came in and a fairly warm jacket to protect myself against the evening wind! I stepped out unwittingly into scorching sun; not a branch was swaying - no breeze at all. Serves my cynicism bloomin right dunnit?
JR amazingly enough had a empty seat right in blue1, I could handle that. Except a dear friend, god bless her soul, decided to drag me off to red2. Of course by the time I got there, the seat in red was gone, so was my original parking spot in blue. Not to worry, I found an equally naff spot not too far away. Oh it was perfect, the lights were dim, there was no to look in on me, it was cosy warm. Ah well. Come lunch time, I had a big staisfying lunch and got sleepier. Nodded right off till my phone rang. Clearly, the JR trip today was just not going to do me any favours. Especially in the heat.
I decided I'd go home, dehijab, splay myself out in the empty bedroom on the double bed with all my notes and textbooks after another cup of coffee. Dear dear caffeine, has kept me going these past couple of weeks. I get to the house... 'Aneesa?' calls miss pink. 'Ja!' I answer. 'Oh my brother's in the house, well he's just upstairs in my room'. Fine I think. I'm tired. I shall settle in md's room while she's taking a break. I can dehijab there.
MD was watching one frrreakish movie. Random ghosts, weird illnesses these people have and they're all pretty suicidal too. Suddenly there is middle aged pakistani man in the garden we can see through the patio door! And this is real life. No movie. Naturally my reaction is get up and wrap a big piece of cloth around my head and shriek about how rude it is to walk into people's gardens! Then I pull the curtain and go upstairs. I see the man peeping through the hedges from my window. Ruddy bob! Is he looking for a way back to his own garden? How very very strange...
Meanwhile miss pink who is at this time at her unclegees has been informed via text about 'the strange man' who apparently came by earlier that morning as well but apparently the sighting had been dismissed as some kind of delusion on md's part. So whilst washing the billion dishes and pans in the sink I get a call and of course I shriek the story over the phone - non of my usual dulcet tones in there. Once I get the shrieking out of my system I'm back to calmly doing the dishes. Its a very therapeutic little task I say. Out of the blue there's another man in the garden. Again, asian and I can tell just from the back of his head! As I flee with soapy hands to shriek, oh yes, yet again, to md about 'more strange men' I spot a floaty blue hijab next to the strange man's head. It all makes sense now.
'Oh lord', I say to md, 'I was just about to complain to you about 'return of the strange man' but its just miss pink accompanied by her brother'. Luckily the curtains are still drawn in md's room so I find refuge there. So off goes pink's bro, after checking that there's still 4 deck chairs, to go shout at the retarded neighbours fully unaware that he himself was half the fright! Ah well. Happens right?
A certain housemate of mine now lives in fear of opening her curtains. Do people not think about the frog who was hit by the careless stone?
JR amazingly enough had a empty seat right in blue1, I could handle that. Except a dear friend, god bless her soul, decided to drag me off to red2. Of course by the time I got there, the seat in red was gone, so was my original parking spot in blue. Not to worry, I found an equally naff spot not too far away. Oh it was perfect, the lights were dim, there was no to look in on me, it was cosy warm. Ah well. Come lunch time, I had a big staisfying lunch and got sleepier. Nodded right off till my phone rang. Clearly, the JR trip today was just not going to do me any favours. Especially in the heat.
I decided I'd go home, dehijab, splay myself out in the empty bedroom on the double bed with all my notes and textbooks after another cup of coffee. Dear dear caffeine, has kept me going these past couple of weeks. I get to the house... 'Aneesa?' calls miss pink. 'Ja!' I answer. 'Oh my brother's in the house, well he's just upstairs in my room'. Fine I think. I'm tired. I shall settle in md's room while she's taking a break. I can dehijab there.
MD was watching one frrreakish movie. Random ghosts, weird illnesses these people have and they're all pretty suicidal too. Suddenly there is middle aged pakistani man in the garden we can see through the patio door! And this is real life. No movie. Naturally my reaction is get up and wrap a big piece of cloth around my head and shriek about how rude it is to walk into people's gardens! Then I pull the curtain and go upstairs. I see the man peeping through the hedges from my window. Ruddy bob! Is he looking for a way back to his own garden? How very very strange...
Meanwhile miss pink who is at this time at her unclegees has been informed via text about 'the strange man' who apparently came by earlier that morning as well but apparently the sighting had been dismissed as some kind of delusion on md's part. So whilst washing the billion dishes and pans in the sink I get a call and of course I shriek the story over the phone - non of my usual dulcet tones in there. Once I get the shrieking out of my system I'm back to calmly doing the dishes. Its a very therapeutic little task I say. Out of the blue there's another man in the garden. Again, asian and I can tell just from the back of his head! As I flee with soapy hands to shriek, oh yes, yet again, to md about 'more strange men' I spot a floaty blue hijab next to the strange man's head. It all makes sense now.
'Oh lord', I say to md, 'I was just about to complain to you about 'return of the strange man' but its just miss pink accompanied by her brother'. Luckily the curtains are still drawn in md's room so I find refuge there. So off goes pink's bro, after checking that there's still 4 deck chairs, to go shout at the retarded neighbours fully unaware that he himself was half the fright! Ah well. Happens right?
A certain housemate of mine now lives in fear of opening her curtains. Do people not think about the frog who was hit by the careless stone?
Friday, 22 May 2009
exams!
So exactly one month on, the first exam is over. It was bizarre. I actually felt anxious / nervous / panicked / worried before this exam. These are normal feelings to have the night before an exam leading up to the moment when the examiner says 'stop writing, turn your scripts over...' blah blah blah. Thing is, I was surprised to feel anxious - I can't remember feeling that way in a long time, since A levels. That was 3 years ago! Then I was surprised that I should be surprised at the nervousness.
Ah, I'm not sure I explained myself very well but it really hit me that I've been emotionally lame or something for quite some time and only now that I'm returning to normal can I say that my lack of drive all this time was 'just a phase'. After all you can't know something is a phase till its over. Feelings are the driving forces behind our actions and I suppose like all things, you don't know what you had till it goes. In my case, I only know what I've missed when I get it back. Like when my eldest brother used to go off to boarding school for months at a time, I'd be sad when he left but I'd only realise how much I'd missed him when he came back.
I don't think I can fully express how strange this concept is to me after I've so casually laid it down in black and white. I mean, its normal to think that when a person injures their leg, it takes time to heal, that a person can be mentally ill and recover <--- that at least has some physiological links but who thought that disfuntional emotions could be a handicap? I dunno, maybe I'm just a bit slow on the uptake of understanding life. Or at least of understanding myself. But what can a person really know of something that changes constantly? How much good does it even do to try and constantly keep track of the changes to evaluate them? The amount of time and effort it would take is probably not worth the results in the end.
Anyway, its nice to fear failure, to hope for something good and to want to work for it. Ha ha, can't believe I just said it was nice to fear something. Ah well. Really though, it wasn't so long ago when lack of ambition wasn't enough to make me back down from something because I had the fear of failure to fall back on, to drive me to complete a task and complete it well. Where had that gone?! Sigh.
I have much to be grateful for. Its so true that we never understand quite how much we have, how much we are given, that we might just as easily not be. Here's another observation from my self-psycho-analysis. Its always easier to talk about something when its over.
My childhood is over. Seriously. I think I was on youtube or something looking at my account profile and it had the usual location, gender, age... OH MY GOD. The numbers two-one have never looked so BIG. I know I had a full year, as with all birthdays, that this is the number I'm approaching but still, it was sobering to see it somehow. I know you're legally an adult when you reach 18 but thats still teens and people are still more than willing to see you a just-a-kid which is a great cover for a whole range of mistakes, careless actions, etc. So now that I'm not 'kidding' myself anymore (hah!) I wonder if what I'll do with my life. Will it make a difference? Is it ok to ask a question that could take the rest of life to find out?
Ah, I'm not sure I explained myself very well but it really hit me that I've been emotionally lame or something for quite some time and only now that I'm returning to normal can I say that my lack of drive all this time was 'just a phase'. After all you can't know something is a phase till its over. Feelings are the driving forces behind our actions and I suppose like all things, you don't know what you had till it goes. In my case, I only know what I've missed when I get it back. Like when my eldest brother used to go off to boarding school for months at a time, I'd be sad when he left but I'd only realise how much I'd missed him when he came back.
I don't think I can fully express how strange this concept is to me after I've so casually laid it down in black and white. I mean, its normal to think that when a person injures their leg, it takes time to heal, that a person can be mentally ill and recover <--- that at least has some physiological links but who thought that disfuntional emotions could be a handicap? I dunno, maybe I'm just a bit slow on the uptake of understanding life. Or at least of understanding myself. But what can a person really know of something that changes constantly? How much good does it even do to try and constantly keep track of the changes to evaluate them? The amount of time and effort it would take is probably not worth the results in the end.
Anyway, its nice to fear failure, to hope for something good and to want to work for it. Ha ha, can't believe I just said it was nice to fear something. Ah well. Really though, it wasn't so long ago when lack of ambition wasn't enough to make me back down from something because I had the fear of failure to fall back on, to drive me to complete a task and complete it well. Where had that gone?! Sigh.
I have much to be grateful for. Its so true that we never understand quite how much we have, how much we are given, that we might just as easily not be. Here's another observation from my self-psycho-analysis. Its always easier to talk about something when its over.
My childhood is over. Seriously. I think I was on youtube or something looking at my account profile and it had the usual location, gender, age... OH MY GOD. The numbers two-one have never looked so BIG. I know I had a full year, as with all birthdays, that this is the number I'm approaching but still, it was sobering to see it somehow. I know you're legally an adult when you reach 18 but thats still teens and people are still more than willing to see you a just-a-kid which is a great cover for a whole range of mistakes, careless actions, etc. So now that I'm not 'kidding' myself anymore (hah!) I wonder if what I'll do with my life. Will it make a difference? Is it ok to ask a question that could take the rest of life to find out?
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
tick tock
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one,
The mouse ran down!
Hickory Dickory Dock.
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The bird looked at the clock,
The clock struck two 2,
Away she flew,
Hickory Dickory Dock
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The dog barked at the clock,
The clock struck three 3,
Fiddle-de-dee,
Hickory Dickory Dock!
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The bear slept by the clock,
The clock struck four 4,
He ran out the door,
Hickory Dickory Dock!
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The bee buzzed round the clock,
The clock struck five 5,
She went to her hive,
Hickory Dickory Dock!
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The hen pecked at the clock,
The clock struck six 6,
Oh, fiddle-sticks,
Hickory Dickory Dock!
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The cat ran round the clock,
The clock struck seven 7,
She wanted to get 'em,
Hickory Dickory Dock!
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The horse jumped over the clock,
The clock struck eight 8,
He ate some cake,
Hickory Dickory Dock!
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The cow danced on the clock,
The clock struck nine 9,
She felt so fine,
Hickory Dickory Dock!
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The pig oinked at the clock,
The clock struck ten 10,
She did it again,
Hickory Dickory Dock!
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The duck quacked at the clock
The clock struck eleven 11,
The duck said 'oh heavens!'
Hickory Dickory Dock!
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The mouse ran up the clock
The clock struck noon
He's here too soon!
Hickory Dickory Dock!
Well the full poem is waaaay long, but you get the point if you even just read the last verse. Tick tock, tick tock and all too soon the day has come to an end after a series of mundane tasks. EXAMS are approaching. Bloomin, ruddy, stinkin, jammy exams. Feel free to substitute any of those first 4 words of the previous sentence to something more foul and unspeakable in your head. I've started viewing this set of exams as the monster from my nightmares. Not that I ever had a particular monster. My dreams never contain monsters which become objects of ridicule in the morning. They're always a bit too freakishly akin to real life to be laughable. Vivid.
Thankfully I've not had any dreams about actual exams. *shudder* Yet in truth, complete truth, I must admit that it isn't really the exams that are bothering me. Its the million and one other tiny things which I refuse to be distracted by but my refusal is of no use. If I don't do the task, I suffer Guilt. Yes, Guilt the proper noun.
Oh Jeshu, I really ought to just get out more and hope the sunshine cures me. Literally. Haha. I'm referring to the vitamin D deficiency! On that jolly note, TTFN
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
Blogworthy?
I'm thinking I should perhaps take a leaf out someone else's book and write blogs in my head about the things which happen at the time of their occurence. Surely my life and the world around me is not so dry that I can find nothing to write about. Must be my brain. Yes, my brain is parched actually.
Strange happenings in bangladesh... other than elections of course, include my sister's wedding, my brother's wedding, and missing a flight. Nope, nothing blogworthy there.
Manchester... people are getting married and having babies left right and center!! People at uni getting married, people down the road getting married, people living in the house getting married!! Tcha! People at uni getting new siblings, people down the road from uni having their second baby, uncle Bob finally has a daughter!! :D mA she's all doll sized and lovely cuteness. I got the shock of my life when I saw the boys though, even the youngest is not so little anymore!!
Sunderland... people also getting married left right and center (it isn't a sign of the DoJ is it?? I've certainly never read such a thing) and erm, since I've not been there in a while I couldn't really say much more.
Wow, my world seems abnormally small all of a sudden. A trip to foreign countries like Wales is well overdue! Sigh.
Strange happenings in bangladesh... other than elections of course, include my sister's wedding, my brother's wedding, and missing a flight. Nope, nothing blogworthy there.
Manchester... people are getting married and having babies left right and center!! People at uni getting married, people down the road getting married, people living in the house getting married!! Tcha! People at uni getting new siblings, people down the road from uni having their second baby, uncle Bob finally has a daughter!! :D mA she's all doll sized and lovely cuteness. I got the shock of my life when I saw the boys though, even the youngest is not so little anymore!!
Sunderland... people also getting married left right and center (it isn't a sign of the DoJ is it?? I've certainly never read such a thing) and erm, since I've not been there in a while I couldn't really say much more.
Wow, my world seems abnormally small all of a sudden. A trip to foreign countries like Wales is well overdue! Sigh.
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