Blessed

It has been a month since my birthday and I was recalling how I was finishing up a last minute assignment the night before. I had a long day at university and I rushed home to get on with my assignment. I finished it up at 11:45 and was ready to pass out on bed. I am glad I called before I did but I am quite sure even if I hadn’t, you would have called at midnight. Because you had remembered it was my birthday when I had forgotten.

I was sleepy azz and wished you good night but you wouldn’t let me hang up. You kept talking when all I could respond with was hmmm and yeah. You pleaded to stay awake for 4 more minutes which confused my already sleep-deprived brain. Normally you put me to sleep but not that night. When I asked why, you blabbered with what you had been up to the whole day and when 4 minutes had passed, you suddenly wished happy birthday which woke me nice and proper. Well, also the fact that my phone pinged with notification at the same time, opened my shut eyes and when I rubbed my eyes to respond to you and my phone, I realised that you had sent me a poem. A heartfelt, beautiful and thoughtful poem that not only had you carved from your own thinking, but you had written so elegantly and beautifully. All this was too much for me to handle. The rush of emotions that came from within resulted in tears of happiness and I started weeping in joy. For I felt truly special. And cherished. And although you are miles away, I felt as if you were right next to me. How I wish you were, so you could see my giddy smile and excited heart. For even though, we both have grown old to celebrate birthdays, the gesture made me feel like a child again.

And this is why I say alhumdulillah, I am so lucky to have you.

He won’t bite. He will just maul you to death.

So WordPress does this weird thing where you save a draft and it schedules it to post and you schedule a post to be posted on Saturday and it just publishes it which is what happened with this one.I quickly removed it but it was too late and people who got my new post in subscription feed emailed me to ask where the new post was.So I quickly finished it up and am posting the would-be Saturday post today.Enough of my blabber.Enjoy.

This post is inspired by Sulphurman’s post on dogs.Go check it out as his posts will have you nostalgic for the hassle and dazzle of Indian streets and golgappes,chaats and the cows that form a makeshift round-a-bout where ever they chose to sit in the middle of streets.

Although my fair share of experiences with dogs have been little than what most people can go on for hours about, there are two incidents that stick in my mind. For dog-lovers and dog-owners who are reading this : I DO NOT let me repeat DO NOT hate dogs. Ever since Simba came into my family, I have mutual love for all animals. Animals that don’t seem to jump up to your shoulders to sniff and bare their canines (pun unintended).Even so, my fear for animals have decreased considerably. In fact I go all mushy when I see kittens or baby goats and had the opportunity to pet the latter while on my visit to India last year.

Onlookers came to know that I didn’t live there, that I was an NRI, born and brought up abroad, because who really looks adoringly at the goats chewing loudly, minding their own business?

India, with its already booming human population, can also easily account for the highest dog population, given the amount of stray dogs barking at every corner or howling at night throughout suburbs and cities. One dog starts howling, the whole pack imitates and pretty soon the next street dogs and then the whole town is filled with collective moaning of dogs. It was some thing I got used to while falling asleep and so, when I returned to Australia, the sheer silence of nothingness kept me awake for hours at end.

Once I was out to shop with my mum and we were stuck in the traffic. In bustling India, being stuck in traffic is awesome because there is never a dull moment. You get to hear verbal abuses of drivers “Chal bey, dekh ke nahi chalta (Oii move!!Fool can’t see where he is walking)”, the afore-mentioned cows walking ahead ever-so slightly at a snail pace, swishing tails in the process and looking at you in mock innocence and incomprehensibility when you honk the horn at them to hurry up. Then a driver gets out of his car to smack the cow’s behind. Meanwhile you hear a baby crying and turn your head in the direction to see where it is coming from. Aaah little kids running through the dirt, one fallen onto the gravel, crying,holding up his bruised knee. Anyway so I saw this stray dog minding his own business, when a 25 year old something guy, just kicks it in the face. The dog howls in surprise and pain and receives another kick. My heart lurches at this assault and I wish to get out of the auto and run to this sadistic guy and kick him the face but I can’t and I don’t. To this day, I wish I did. So yeah, I don’t hate dogs, I just fear them. Something that white Australians don’t get. What they do get is offended if I see a dog and run in the opposite direction. They would rather I scream at the sight of their 6 month old baby than shriek at the sight of their munchkin boo Lady Diana.

Incident 1 : I had gone to my neighbour’s house with my 3 year old cousin and was waiting outside after knocking the door. The door opened ever so slightly and a black daschund-size dog whizzed past my legs onto my baby cousin prancing in delight.Dog prancing not my cousin.My cousin was running around my legs in circle crying and shrieking asking me to pick him up, the dog chasing him and I am frozen in terror screaming my head off. The aunty doesn’t know what to do so she calls her teenage son who bribes the dog with treats. Dog leaves, I pick my cousin up and we dart out of there forgetting the purpose for which we had gone to their place. To this day, I avoid any sort of contact with the next door neighbour.

Incident 2 : It was a nice sunny day and I had taken my 3 cousins (aged 10,7 and 3) to the park. I was pushing the 3 year old on the swing and the 10 year old was pushing her 7 year old sister and we were laughing and chatting away when a door nearby park opens and a huge dog (what is with all these huge dogs? why not a chihuahua?) comes rushing.

All of us start screaming. In reflex action, I forget my cousins and rush for my dear life (Hey, don’t judge. It was a do or die situation). The dog runs after me and I am screaming and crying and running circles in the park, the dog chasing me in joyful barks with its tongue lolling around its chin and my cousins screaming out my name like a jinn had possessed them. The owner is calling out the dog’s name but the dog is busy enjoying my squeals of terror to listen to its master. Like in any horror movie, I trip and the dog is over me and I close my eyes because it’s all over.The owner yanks away the dog and mutters an apology but he is clearly insulted at my offensive behaviour. I don’t know what he was expecting : for me to bow down to his dog or what? Naah man ain’t gonna apologise for your hyper canine mate.

Dogs and desis do not gel.Well 95% don’t. Apparently Pakistanis are up in the game with most of my friends adopting furry poodles but for Indians and Bangladeshis :  well the hatred is as much and as real as for each other.

***Images and gifs courtesy of Google.

Sale Frenzy

Target at Hoppers Crossing recently relocated to the Pacific Werribee and as part of its moving, it had a three day 75% off sale. I had always heard of people going crazy at Black Friday sales in America.There have been incidents of people getting trampled to death by the throngs of crowd just pounding into the stores like the stampede in Lion King.

Fortunately,we don’t have boxing day sales here in Australia. Why did I say fortunately? Read on.

Sale started Monday , the day I go to mentor kids at the Werribee Secondary College for 2 hours. My aunt called up my mum to inform her of the sale. Mum dropped me off at school and headed to Target to check out the buzz. I called up mum to ask her to pick me up after my mentorship training got over and mum said that she couldn’t pick me up as she was stuck in line to the counter and that she might not be able to come out even after an hour. So I called my aunt and she picked me up and dropped me at Target and wooooow!! I was just speechless. It was a whole new shopping experience I can tell you that. The store was practically empty but the employers would just bring out new stuff and people would rush to it like a pack of hyenas would attack a baby deer. Their eyes were as ravenous as a hungry lion and their hands as outstretched as a little child who had just seen their favourite toy at store.There was a huge line that started from the cashier snaking all the way around to the whole store ending at the entrance. My mum didn’t exaggerate when she said it was a kilometre long line. After a few minutes,I was able to locate my mum. Having secured the trolley, we decided to check out other stuff as well. Mum saw these bed sheets and decided to check whether it was for single, double, king or queen size and poof it was gone. Some one had snatched it right out of her hands!!! People were wild I tell you. You couldn’t differentiate between people and animals, such was the environment and the atmosphere. It almost seemed like everyone had lost their senses and were lusting after the discounted items. The funny thing was that most of these items were stuff people didn’t even need. Allow me to elaborate : So I am a size 7 and when I was checking for shoes my size, there were none to be found. Only the gigantic size 9s or the tiniest size 6s could be seen all over the shelves. I spotted these beautiful black heels in size 7 in some aunty’s hand and no, I wasn’t going to grab it out of her hand. Thankfully I hadn’t transformed into the mindless zombie who had forgotten all etiquettes. The aunty was busy trying to squeeze her foot into the heel.

It almost pained me to observe the whole thing and I was almost tempted to tell her that there was no Prince Charming who would come and rescue her if her shoe fit in the glass slipper, I mean black stiletto heels. After 5 minutes of torturing the feet and the heels, she finally gave up. I was almost delighted and had started fantasising of the heels in my hands until she exclaimed “Ehhh I shall give it to my sister. I can’t miss such a good deal”. ARRRGHHHHHH!!!

Mum and I were waiting in the line for a good hour, observing the whole craziness and pandemonium taking place. All of a sudden, we heard a lady groan in agitation and looked back to check what had happened. Apparently these group of Indian ladies had taken a friend of theirs under their wing. Understandably, the white lady behind would be upset. Having to wait in line for hours and then have someone jump the queue is not at all acceptable. But the newcomer wouldn’t and didn’t budge. After a while, a hijabi approached us and was about to ask if she could join us when the very same lady that had escorted her friend, started shouting at the top of her lungs accusing her of queue jumping and breaking the line and threatening to complain to the management. The hijabi lady looked around helplessly for a few seconds and then jumped out of the line, stashed away the clothes on a nearby rack and left. I was appalled and shocked at the attitude of the Indian aunty behind me. Her hypocritical nature had left me speechless. I wasn’t able to question her and I wish I had because it really should be one size fits all (You can tell I really really wanted those heels lol).

By the time, we left the store it was 3:30 in the afternoon. Mum had spent 6 hours and I, 2 and that was enough time for us to start questioning the world we live in. If a sale on materialistic items had ignited such passion and antagonistic feelings in humans, then we aren’t leaving a very good example for the generations to come.

***All images and gif via Google Images

Tutti Frutti Frozen Yoghurt (Review)

So today is officially my one month anniversary of blogging. I am not that type of person who would be excited and bragging about anniversaries, or that I have 31 followers ,or that I reached a total of 205 likes on all my blog posts so far or the fact that my best number of views in a day was 32 on my blog (oops, I guess I just did hehe). Nope, I would rather be excited that I was able to keep my promise of blogging consistently 5 days a week for a month alhumdulillah(Still deciding which 2 days to blog on from now on. For now its Saturday and Sunday.)And so I decided to treat myself with a bit of froyo.

I had heard of the concept of frozen yoghurt by the girly YouTubers who make DIY videos and get ready with me’s and morning and night routines on their channel. They were raving about cookie dough frozen yoghurt. And so when Tutti Frutti opened up at Pacific Werribee (Werribee Plaza back then), I was the first one in line to try it out. And may I say it was the best thing ever especially with toppings. It has the sweetness and coldness of ice cream and health factor of yoghurt. Of course, my froyo doesn’t seem too healthy after I add choc-biscuits and wafer and all that jazz.

Tutti Frutti has various flavours of frozen yoghurts and they keep introducing new flavours. My all time favourite is chocolate and cookie n cream.

The best part about it though are the assortment of toppings. I am a huge pearl fan.

When you bite into a pearl, the sweet juice shoots into the back of your mouth directly into the esophagus (food pump/canal).  Normally it works best with fruit flavoured froyos such as mango,blueberry and strawberry just because the pearls are fruit flavoured too but I have to have pearls in any froyo I choose. It IS the best.

Also for those who are concerned with the pearls being halal or not, just ask the staff and they will tell you. In my case, the person behind the counter took out the tub from the shelf and handed it over to me for me to peruse through the ingredients and fortunately, the pearls were of vegetarian origin.

Pros :

• Taste yummy
• Various flavours
• Assortment of yummy toppings to choose from

• Colourful spoons

• Vegetarian pearls

Cons:

• Pay by weight so if you load up on toppings like I do, you end up paying more.

All in all, the best dessert. Suitable for weight-watchers, and fun and yumm for kids.

I shall be right there for you when you fall……….laughing so harrrddd

There are some friends with whom you instantly connect and share all your laughs and sorrows and life’s every moment and with whom you become really close with and later can’t seem to recall how you met and became friends in the first place. Then there are others who just land in your life at the right moment and right time and with whom you wouldn’t have thought of getting close to but you do and you actually do remember how you two met. Beatriz fell in the latter category. Fell being the imperative word as that is what my funny and georgeous friend seems to do : fall.

I met Beatriz as I was rushing to Nutrition Principals lecture. As I rushed to open the door, I noticed a girl beside me and gave her way to enter before me. She said thanks with a wide smile & enquired whether I was heading to Nutrition lecture as well. Upon getting a positive nod, her smile grew even wider and we started chatting away by asking about each other. Over the course of next weeks, we both came to know about each other’s families (she is Brazilian),likes and preferences. She is my only friend who has had the honour of getting to know about my blog. Beatriz is such a sweet soul that she not only reads it regularly and gives me feedback but has also told about my blog to her friends in Brazil. Readers from Brazil, thank you for your support.

Anyway today’s topic is falling. No, not the autumn fall but the physical act of smashing to the ground. Last week when I met up with Beatriz, she wasn’t able to speak. She was choking on her words and gasping for air. No, she wasn’t dying. She had fallen while climbing the stairs, and was laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face as she recounted to me her epic failure of the basic etiquette of the climb. And even though, I hadn’t had the chance to actually observe the glorious moment in action, Beatriz was laughing so hard and she drew such a great visualisation, that I was rolled up on the floor, doubling with laughter. We two were like a bunch of lunatics, laughing loud and hard and were drawing stares from everyone present in the library. It was later when we packed our bags and headed to our tutorial that Beatriz was kind enough to enact the whole fall in action as we climbed up the stairs.She had fallen just as Jennifer Lawrence had (gif down below) except Jennifer Lawrence fell in front of the whole world and Beatriz had fallen in front of her whole class. So engrossed was I in observing Beatriz that I didn’t realise and tripped over my own dress, in almost the exact same fashion as Beatriz had.The howls of laughter that erupted from both of us at my fall was too much to behold.

I guess it was fall season all around the world. Sarah Hyland tripped while walking to the stage at the Teen Choice Awards.

Oh and then last week, I was walking from university to station to catch the train. I was wearing my new ankle boots and was strutting my strut among the crowd of city people which included girls in business suits and pony tails and 6 inch heels. Mine wasn’t 6 inch. Probably 2 inch. So I wouldn’t trip right? 6 inch Elizabeth would right? Apparently some slippery pamphlety flyer was beneath me and my boots sorta slipped and gave way and my foot went above my knee and my head jerked back , wait I shall include a gif so you can feel like you were there when it happened.

Yeah yeah laugh away!! I was so embarassed that I could feel my face getting red. I didn’t look anywhere, just straight ahead and resumed by my strut like the above cute penguin.(I hope I looked just as cute). Serious question : why do we find it funny when someone slips,trips,falls? Is it because of that sudden clumsy motion of a person’s hands flailing around,legs flying in different directions? That person could injure himself/herself, sometimes resulting in death OKAY?? DON’T LAUGH. That person has already damaged his self-esteem. No need to add insult to the injury.I can still hear your muffled laughter btw.

This post is dedicated to Beatriz. That exchange student from Brazil who made my Fridays less tiresome and more funnysome. You are a sweet and kind friend. Your fall inspired this post so thank you.

***Image and gifs via Google Image

The One

When I tell my friends of my parents actively searching for a guy for me, they seem confused. “But how do you know that he will be the one?” You don’t. You make him the one for you.

Arranged marriage is a weird concept to white people. Dating is frowned upon in my culture(Bollywood creates false image of acceptance of love.Those aunties that click their tongues when they see you talking to the opposite gender don’t make the movies.It’s the desi uncle who love masala and spice)and forbidden in my religion. It is hard when you have clash of cultures, religions and people in a group. One of my non-desi non-muslim friend has a boyfriend, one of them is a muslim desi engaged to be married and I am the single muslim desi. So while both of them are busy texting their significant others, I am deciding on what snacks will be awaiting me when I reach home from uni. Not that I am complaining coz hey, the sight of food pleases me just as much. I get all mushy too when I see steaming pizza and we never fight like ever. Food and I are just meant to be.

These days all I hear about are proposals and marriage and my friends getting engaged, my cousins getting engaged, when the marriage date is getting fixed and which aunty is searching for a boy for their girl or a girl for their boy. Maybe I grew up and that is why these topics seem more pronounced to me because all of a sudden the theme changed from career to husbands. And I wasn’t prepared. I am still in the career mode. And while marriage won’t put a full stop to that dream of mine, it will most definitely be a life-changing experience. And I hate changes. Well, changes are good or I would get bored of routine. But not my life change changes. The plaza gets renovated, the apps get updated and my house gets repainted, that’s all cool. But changing house, families, living with new people, it will take ages getting used to it. Even though it has been 5 years since I moved to Aus, I still wake up in the morning and wonder where am I? for a few seconds. If 16 years of living in Dubai did that to me, you can only imagine my reaction 22 years living with my family will have on me. I shall wake up and scream at my husband and ask “Who are youuu??”

My parents will celebrate their 27 years of marriage in October. When white people reach such jubilees in their time of spending together, they get asked what is the secret? Desi people have unlocked the secret ages ago. The secret is live together,STAY together (no matter what, even if the husband is ugly). I can’t say for desi people my generation now though. Divorces are getting common in my area too unfortunately. And as cliché  as that sounds, I feel social media is partly to blame. Wives are in competition of which husband gave the best present and who is more romantic and where did which couple celebrate their getaway.You know, that competitive desi mentality lol. Its ruining marriages now.But that is just the tip of the iceberg.Other factors account too.

Now, when I am at that age of what is supposedly every girl’s dream of meeting the one, it doesn’t seem all rosy. Books and movies don’t offer step by step manual.Even if they did, chuck it away and create your own.That doesn’t mean it will be a fairytale story. You got to prepare yourself for the bumpy ride.And I guarantee it will be smooth sailing after for a long long time. The magic word is compromise.

***All opinions stated are mine (ok some might be the influence of a couple of aunties and grandmothers’ advice. I went to a party recently and got heaps and loads of advice on how to handle marriage so yeah.They told me to compromise I replied yolo (not really)).

***All images and gif via Google Images.

Like for like

As much as I enjoy technology and social media, I don’t enjoy the pressure that is associated with it. When I was little, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram didn’t exist. Even internet with its unlimited data, speed and connection was non-existant. The other day, my brothers and I were reminiscing over the fact that back in the days, after our family had dinner, we would disconnect our phone to connect to the internet. Dial-up connection would take ages to connect with its annoying ringtone. Mum would log into msn messenger or Yahoo Chat to talk to my aunt or call my grandma via Voip. We would play internet games but that was only sometimes. Solitaire and Minesweeper were our companions. Oh and who could forget Microsoft Paint? Best times, I tell ya. I know you kids will disagree but let me tell you, we didn’t have to check our phone every two seconds for notifications to blow up our phone on the latest selfie uploaded. Not throwing shade (well kinda,just a lil bit).

This post was inspired by another blogger whose every (literally every, like she doesn’t blog about anything else) blog post is on how many followers she got and OMG she just started her blog and didn’t expect so many follows, likes and all that jazz. I get it. The excitement. The popularity meter spiking up. The comments of congratulations. We are all humans.We like being loved. We like being known we are loved. It boosts our ego and sense of accomplishment. But what we fail to realise is there are others who are not getting followers and likes and all that love. They look at your posts and feel down. No one compliments on your face anymore. For this person,no one does it on social media either. How is that person going to feel?

It is for this reason I am very inactive on Facebook. Not because of lack of likes or comments. I don’t even post on Facebook. I used to be the silent viewer. I used to silently watch who got friends with whom, who was tagging whom on which party that they had, who was checking out at which fancy restaurant, whose profile photo was getting 100+ likes. I didn’t know I was getting affected but suddenly I was planning a meet up or was asking my parents if we could go out to eat and trying to do all the “fun” stuff but whenever I used to hang out, or go out it didn’t seem natural. I didn’t like it. It is because I realised it wasn’t me. It wasn’t who I was. I was the quiet nerdy girl who loved reading books and staying at home. Yes, I like being social and meeting with friends but I couldn’t and didn’t want to do something crazy every week just to compete.So I stopped being the silent viewer. Now I am the ghost. People ask if I am still alive because there is no activity on Facebook. I just holler at them through Whatsapp . I would rather have real talk through Whatsapp then post a status to let the world know I am alive.

And then Instagram popped up and the world went nuts again. I mean Facebook is basically Twitter and Instagram mashed together. You post a status or share something on Twitter and post a photo and get likes and comments on Instagram. Weren’t those features on Facebook already? But no, people loved the 140 word limit because it seemed challenging and OMG filters on Instagram, no but for real, have you tried those filters?Let me tell you, they are plastic surgeon’s app. I connected with a friend on insta and all her selfies she looked different like really different.Eyes bigger, nose thinner,teeth whiter. And I met her in person and she was still the same. Ok and then what’s the deal with food pics. Did you make it yourself? No??? Ohhh the chef at the restaurant made it? Going to a restaurant and eating a fancy meal every week is such a big thing, I should just give you a medal. I personally believe,if you didn’t make the meal yourself, don’t post it. You post selfies on your account,not otheries, why post other’s creations? I get it, it’s your dinner. Click a photo and save it to your camera roll. But no, Instagram IS camera roll. Just post everything.

I am not hating those who do whatever I mentioned above. If you are one of those people, then good on ya (or shall I say food on ya hehe.) Post em delish food,gorgeous selfies, do your thang. All my friends do it, and I support em by liking. But I personally don’t. Well,selfies sometimes.I can’t help it with lighting so good and angle so great.

Real talk tho, always remember, quality over quantity. For bloggers who are blogging for years, or youtubers making videos, do your stuff with passion and don’t worry about followers or likes. It’s hard but don’t. You will gain followers (not an overnight success), the real and genuine ones. Not the follow for follow people. But people who followed you for the content. Who discovered you through your posts/videos. Don’t go chasing people.It will be slow progress but it will be worth it.

WordPress,Instagram,Twitter, Facebook etc., don’t make it easier on you. They show statistics on how successful you are getting. They post notifications on the likes you got on a post. I am not complaining. I enjoy it. What I hate is when we start equating that with success when it shouldn’t be the case. The number of followers/likes does not validate you,your awesomeness. Numbers don’t define you.They never did and they never will.

***Feature image and gifs via Google Image

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Email : aaliyahzahra@hotmail.com (Come chat with me!!)

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The Wallflower

I tutor English for scholarship exams to year 5’s and year 8’s. It is a rewarding experience I can tell ya. Especially when they pay you. That is the rewarding part. The teaching? Not so much. Jk.

So this year, I got a brother and sister to tutor. The girl is in year 5 and the boy is in year 8. When I do orientation lesson in the first class, I yak away on the two types of essays they will be writing in the exam. I go through all the basics, the do’s and don’ts, the if’s and but’s, the no pencil rule, the formal writing rule, all that. And I can tell, most my kids are actively listening, grasping all the pieces of information I am hurling at them. This boy, however, was just sitting uninterested. He was slouched back, shoulders drooping, sighing in between. For a second, I wondered if he had heard all this before. I mean I tune out the safety instructions they give on the plane because I have heard it so many times. So I ask him, if he has because I don’t want to waste my breath and energy if that is the case. He rolls out his tongue and says no. So I resume with my energy even if it is not having an effect on him. Turns out he is like that. Like a kid who doesn’t want to be there but has to be there.

Throughout the weeks, I tried making his lesson a bit interesting. Interacting with him, asking about his hobbies and what games he likes to play. And although he opened up, he never spoke with animated passion. If you talked to me about something I love, my eyes would be out of its sockets, my mouth would be going non-stop 120 km/hr. But for this kid, he was like an 80 year old weary grandpa who had seen the world and experienced life and was just biding away his time by doing what his parents asked him to.

Slowly slowly I got to know more of him through his writing. For instance his fascination with Ebola. In almost each essay that he wrote, Ebola had to be there whether it related to the topic or not. And no matter how many times I had to tell him off for it, Ebola would still creep in. Now whenever he hands me the essay, I quickly scan through the essay to search for it and smile whenever I see its mention.

He is slowly starting to enjoy our lessons. He smiles a bit now and talks about school,his friends and his teachers. It took him a while but he is opening up. I am hoping I can make him put extra effort on his essays but I don’t want to scare him away. It shall take a bit of time.Before I know it, he will be giving the exam and saying good bye. I wonder that’s how teachers/lecturers must feel. Teaching you for a whole year/semester. Getting used to seeing faces, getting to know students and then all of a sudden, new students, new faces. And one of them sticks to your mind. The different one. Because I know I shall remember this kid and his fascination with the disease Ebola.

***Feature image via Google Images

What is Sleep??

I am sooooo tirreeddd!!!Fridays are usually lengthy days at uni for me.I get up at 7:30,get ready, get to station at 8:15 and reach university at 9:00. Head to the library to print out my lecture notes and then to the lecture at 9:30.Lecture runs from 9:30 to 11:30, then an hour break in between,then a tutorial from 12:30 to 1:30, then an hour break and then a lecture from 2:30 to 3:30. On alternate weeks, I have a practical lab from 2 to 5. By the time I head home, its 5/6 in the evening and I am a walking zombie. Except zombies, with their outstretched hands, drone out BRAINS!!BRAINS!! while I mumble SLEEP SLEEP.

So today I got home from uni and before I knew it, I was flat out. I woke up just a couple of minutes before to go to the loo, and remembered I hadn’t posted today.With 2 more hours until midnight, I am like Cinderella, rushing to find mice to turn into coachmen (I am rummaging through my sleep-addled brain for words to make a coherent post).

I have only told my one friend (that I just got to know) at uni about my blog (She will be featuring in a post very soon). I wanted to observe the power of social media. I wanted to see how long it’s going to take before my friends/relatives get to know about my blog via my WordPress,Tumblr,Facebook Page,Twitter or Instagram. I haven’t promoted or gave an inkling to anyone as yet and my family is on the deal as well. It’s hard because if I would tell them, they would be supporting me and actively reading and I would be getting more views than now but I like this too.In fact I prefer this anonymity, the calm before the storm (storm might take years to come lol). I can blog my mind without writing too biased or preferential just because a certain friend/relative is reading. I get too conscious and shy as well. And right now, it’s a small team. My parents, brothers, and you lovely readers. At least I know who will be in my thank you speech when I shall be accepting the Booker or the Pulitzer Prize.

I am thinking of writing twice a week, instead of 5. Reading this post, I am sure you agree with me. I prefer quality over quantity. I would rather put everything into my two posts than write 5 posts of crap. I have 24 hours during weekends that are exclusively mine, to furnish and publish my posts rather than rush through uni, write my posts on train and trams and come home,add my gifs and memes and just give it away. I have been debating for quite some time, but it’s hard to break a promise that I kept with myself. It’s just been 3 weeks. I didn’t even last a month (Cry emoji). I didn’t want to sound like I was getting lazy, or losing motivation because I haven’t. I am still enjoying this. I just want to balance studies, blogging,tutoring and volunteering. At the moment, the balance is tipping heavier towards blogging,tutoring and volunteering.

You know what, I shall write 5 more posts for the next week. So that, at least I shall have fulfilled my promise for a whole month and feel satisfied.Yes, that’s what I shall do.

Until Monday.

***Image and gifs via Google Image.

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Email : aaliyahzahra@hotmail.com (old school with no facebook,twitter,insta? Got your back. Email me)

Tumblr : http://www.aaliyahzahra.tumblr.com (For those, who don’t have wordpress, I made tumblr.Currently running 2 posts behind WP.)

FaceBook Page : http://www.facebook.com/pages/AaliyahZahra (Invite your friends to come like, support,share)

Twitter : @Aaliyahsblogs (Tweet about my posts, that’s all. Shall start tweeting real stuff soon coz first things first, I am a realist.)

Instagram : @aaliyah_zahra (Brag about my new blog post here. No, I don’t have food photos/selfies.Shall have a post on that shortly and then I shall post that on insta.I do follow backs.Actually I would love to see your food posts and you.Do follow.)