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.

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

Email : (Come chat with me!!)

Tumblr : (For those, who don’t have wordpress, I made tumblr.)

FaceBook Page : (Invite your friends to come like, support,share)

Twitter : @Aaliyahsblogs (Tweet about my posts, that’s all. And struggles of a blogger)

Instagram : @aaliyah_zahra (Follow for follow/like for like. Yeah I do that. Hypocrite much? Hey,caring is sharing ok! LOL)

Take my Advice..

I am nearing the end of my degree and as I am approaching graduation, I am getting this apprehensive fear of the future.


When I was little, and the elders used to ask “So, what you are going to be when you grow up?”, everyone else was rattling off their career aspirations and hobbies and I would have no clue. I would blurt out “teacher” when my turn came but that was only to get everyone off my back because everyone else would be peering into my face or repeating the question until I gave an answer. Growing up, I felt weird among my friends because they knew what to do whereas I didn’t have a single clue. My mum would put my worries to rest by assuring me that I would figure it out when the time came. And then as I passed from one year level to the next, the pressure of an ever growing mountain of classwork, homework, getting highest grades and getting into a medical degree just kept mounting up. I had no time to think, no time to sit back and relax and think about what I actually saw myself doing in the next few years. WAIT!!WAIT!!HOLD UP!!PAUSE!!GO BACK!!!MEDICAL DEGREE?? WHERE DID THAT COME FROM??? That’s right. I didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly I was telling everyone that I wanted to become a doctor. No wait, everyone else was telling me that I was going to become a doctor. And even though I get nauseous when I see blood, suddenly I was working hard to get ATAR score of 99.99 to get into medicine. Everyone else was telling everybody else about me aiming for medicine but no one was telling me how to achieve that dream. No one wanted to tell me. No one wanted competition buildup for their kids. No one wanted their suggestion to be taken in the wrong way if things didn’t turn out right. Everyone kept mum. Now if you recall, I had arrived Australia like a year and a half ago. I had no clue about the workings. I had no clue about getting tuitions. I had no clue where or who to go to for tuitions. I had no one to guide me, no one to coach me, no one to tell me what units to take. That I could have taken Biology and still gotten into medicine. No,everyone assured me that taking 2 maths units, physics and chemistry was the way to go. That subjects that I would drown in would help me in getting into medicine. That studying whole textbooks all by MYSELF was what every student does. Little did I know everyone else was going for tuitions.

I did not get 99.95. I did not get into medicine. I did not meet the demands of what desi community had placed onto me.

cry gif

I got into Bachelors of Science (Biotechnology). At every desi party I would be the target of aunties clicking their tongue in sympathy for my failure. I would feel down, I felt I had let my parents down, my relatives down, the whole of India down. Aunties would surround me and question my errors and interview my faults because they wanted to avoid the pitfalls that I had fallen into during my journey. They wanted to know what shortcuts they could take for their kids based on my shortcomings.

3 years later…

I attend a party and see this aunty whom I haven’t seen for long. I go to her and chat with her and ask about what has been happening. Apparently her elder daughter was in year 12 and she had stopped attending parties to concentrate on her studies. I asked whether she is still pursuing the dream of doctor and aunty exclaims “Doctor?? No waayy!!! I don’t want my daughter to become doctor. Do you know they have to do night shifts as part of degree? It is very unsafe for girls. Do you know its a 5 year degree? Too lengthy!!And plus my daughter doesn’t have interest in medicine. She told me she wants to become a teacher. I also like that. Best job for girls.” I look around and see all aunties nodding their head in unison.

I lose consciousness.


*** All images and gifs via Google Images.

Confessions of a Blogger..

I started this blog approximately two weeks ago and the response I am receiving is overwhelming. Getting to read other fellow bloggers’ post, who by the way are amazing writers and poets, is inspiring. Getting to know them through their posts and comments is even more awesome. The fact that my blog is being read in countries such as Turkey, Sweden, Norway, Netherlands, Argentina, Malaysia, Singapore, India, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, South Africa, United Kingdom, European Union, Canada, America is so mind-boggling. I can’t imagine people sitting in front of their laptops,desktops, on their phones and actually reading what I write like WOW!!!(Am I famous yet?)


I started this blog as a way to vent out my feelings and to record what I was going through. I used to have a personal diary in which I wrote what happened each day. I got it as a birthday gift when I turned 13. At the time I was reading Diary of Anne Frank and she had received her famous diary when she turned 13 as well. (I named it Diary of Aaliyah Zahra(how original!)).Of course my entries were much more daily updates (and not inspiring at all) of what had happened each day rather than the thoughtful philosophical insights Anne had. As days passed, I got bored of it or maybe I became lazy. The diary would get lost among the evergrowing pile of textbooks,notebooks and workbooks of my school days. Months later, I would come across it while cleaning and throwing out the books and I would blow the dust that it had accumulated during my time of neglect and I would read my old entries and laugh at how childish I used to be. With renewed enthusiasm, I would grab a pencil and start writing again, only to get busy in life and leave it untouched. I bought it along with me to Australia but my fingers started crying in pain the minute I started writing as I haven’t done actual writing in 5 years (All my university assignments and studying are computer based). I am pretty sure my diary hates me now. It must think of me as its on-again off-again girlfriend. And now that I am writing my entries here, it must feel cheated.

A page dated February 2, 1941 from the diary of German Nazi ideologue Alfred Rosenberg is displayed at the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington on December 17, 2013 as the US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agency hands over the document to the museum. The Rosenberg Diary, kept by Alfred Rosenberg, a confidant of Adolf Hitler whose racist theories underpinned Nazi Germany's annihilation of six million Jews, had been missing since the Nuremberg war crimes trials ended in 1946. The US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agency, a key player in finding the loose-leaf diary, said it had initially been taken by a Nuremberg prosecutor, Robert Kempner,

Because I am writing this blog and I know there are people like you reading it and taking time out of their day to provide such lovely comments and feedback (A BIG THANK YOU), I feel I have to write. Like I would be cheating if I don’t.And I don’t think I can become lazy and not post for a couple of years and then write a post apologizing and promising I am back and shall be writing and then not write again like I did to my diary. But this is good pressure. I am enjoying it. I love it when someone replies that they can relate to my post. It makes my day.


I honestly didn’t know I had writing in me. Mikaeel was the creative one amongst us. It was an established fact. He had the best handwriting (he is a guy and I AM A GIRL (life is so unfair I know). He draws amazing and my older brother Khalid and I would ask him to do our biology drawings (Mikaeel charged us with a fee of course). I used to do well in English like A’s and A+’s on my creative writing essays but that was just that. Studying and getting grades. My brothers would encourage me to do writing and had nicknamed me J.K. Howling. When I would howl about it they would say j.k. Haha so funny I know.

roll eye gif

2 weeks ago my older brother gave the idea to start the blog to enhance my writing so that I could write a novel in the future and with the support of my parents, I did. It would be my personal diary, a place to vent out my feelings, a place to rant behind the anonymous guise of social media. Little did I know, there was team internet who would be supporting me. Getting to know like-minded girls who support each other is such a satisfying feeling. Its like having sisters I wish I had.Coming back after a rough day and responding to comments or reading your blog posts and thinking OMG same just alleviates whatever I had gone through the day. Your blog posts motivate and inspire me. Keep doing you. Us girls got this. We can share the struggles of having that aunty scorn at us for not becoming a doctor. We can stand up against any desi injustice. We can do this!! Now go and do your homework or you gonna get a flying slipper on your head from your mum for procrastinating 😛

**All images and gifs via Google Images

The Lovely Ones…

So last Friday I wrote a post on racism and how it is still well and alive in Australia. I promised I would be showcasing the other section of society.The lovely ones.

I used to volunteer at St. Vinnies during my school holidays. The lovely manager over there, Miss Kate, was a terrific conversationalist. She was friendly,lively and always complimented me for my style and the skirts I used to wear. She would ask me how my weekend was and would proceed to give reviews on the next best movie that she had watched or a restaurant she had gone to with her partner. I stopped volunteering two years ago but whenever I bump into her, she always greets me with her cheery smile and twinkly eyes and asks me if I am married yet.


Another great Australian that comes to mind is my classmate Jennifer. School year starts in February and we had arrived Australia early in April. By the time, I had enrolled into school it was mid-May and classes were in full swing. New country, new school, new people. It all seemed overwhelming to me. For the first few weeks I was that new kid who was all alone by herself, too shy to ask questions, too afraid to meet anyone’s eye. Then this boisterous, bumbling Jennifer came sat next to me and all changed. She introduced herself and I knew I liked her from the start. She had a cheerful and outgoing personality and she used to offer me with whatever snacks and treats she had (I had to refuse due to most of it being haram but she never got offended). I saw her recently working at the supermarket Aldi. She was too busy to look at customers but had she not been, I still wouldn’t have had the courage to walk over and say hi. (The weird thing with me is that, if it has been a while since I have seen you last, I will try to avoid rocking up to you for fear you might not recognise me or to avoid the awkwardness of Hey!!Remember me?? I tend to believe it’s because I am an introvert, my family thinks I am just weird).

Students and teacher working in lab classroom

Last semester I had to go to an exam at a venue (Melbourne Showgrounds) that I had never been before. I was already a jittery mess and the fact that I had to go to the unknown was getting me antsy. My older brother had accompanied along for moral support but he was as clueless as I was. The indecisive GPS was not really being of much help in calming me down as it keep displaying different routes each minute. We got off at Footscray and were waiting for the tram that would hopefully take us to our destination. As soon as the tram arrived, I hopped on and asked the tram driver if he would be leading us to Melbourne Showgrounds. He said he would be going along that way but I would have to change the tram and hop onto another one which would take us 2 stops down from there. This kind sir asked me to sit in front right behind his driver seat so that he would let me know when to get off. He assured me he wouldn’t forget. Right before our stop, he announced “Students wishing to go to Melbourne Showgrounds please disembark and board on Tram 52 to get there”. I don’t know who he was, but I sure will never forget him.I got to my exam hall 30 minutes before scheduled time and my frazzled nerves had calmed down considerably.

Tram driver

Such acts of kindness and support, I shall cherish forever. These are just a few examples of the lovely acts of random kindness that I was fortunate enough to receive. I hope that I can be such a person to someone someday.

***All images via Google Images. The tram driver pictured is NOT the tram driver who helped me and Miss Kate is not the model pictured above.

10 things I am grateful for…

Wherever I go,whatever I read, whatever I watch, I always seem to see beautiful models everywhere with glistening pearly whites and long legs. Some girls in my university too. Frickin walking angels. And then I come home and see myself in the mirror. Acne scars, chubby cheeks, bespectacled eyes all greet me in unison. It’s as if I had forgotten how I looked like because my heart skips a beat with an amalgamation of feelings of shock,disappointment and yearning. I wonder how it must feel like to smile and have a set of bright white teeth glean back at you.(BTW,I don’t have yellow teeth, I just don’t have those extra, bright right in your face whitey white teeth or veneers or whatever they have.I have normal white teeth. Just clarifying any misconceptions you might have hehe).I wonder how it must feel to have slender nose that twitch back at you. I wonder how it would feel to have flawless skin mirroring your happiness. I wonder how different those girls’ reactions would be in comparison to mine when they checked themselves in the mirror. And how uplifted they must feel (doesn’t help with the fact that they are already so lifted high up with that height plus 6 inch heels). Everything seems perfect because they look, breath, walk perfect.


It was during a class practical at my university that I saw one of these angels crying. I went over and with a slight hesitation asked her if everything was ok. She shook her head and sobbed even harder. Perplexed, I was thinking of a way of comforting her without scaring her when she started spluttering words “Divorce, (swear word) broke off, rent and kicked out” before bursting into a hail of tears. After a while, I was able to make sense of the fact that her boyfriend and her had recently broken up. She was living at his place, so he kicked him out. She went to live at her parent’s place and 2 weeks later they called her siblings and her and announced they were getting divorced after 30 years of marriage.They were dividing everything and selling their joint home and splitting the money that came out of it. Neither parent could keep her in as the mother was using her money to travel the world and the dad was moving in with his new girlfriend. To make matters worse, her ex-boyfriend was demanding rent money that she owed him for the last month. That was a lot for me take in, never mind the poor girl who actually had to go through this. This girl,in her early 20s,had nowhere to go. She had a job at McDonalds but that wasn’t enough to pay for an accommodation,bills and fees.


And I realised that while I may not have what she has, she doesn’t have what I have. That I overlooked the other blessings in life that I had. That I took, what I had, for granted.

So here’s 10 things I am grateful for :

  1. For my parents who are the backbone of my support, who are always there for me and hold onto me when I fall, to motivate me when I am feeling down, to provide me with snacks for uni and when I return from uni, to serve me with warm food and heaps of love.
  2. For my brothers who love me unconditionally and care for me and protect me and who tease me occasionally but would do anything to keep that smile on my face.
  3. For a home and a warm bed and good food because I know I am richer than 70% of the world who don’t have basic rights to these amenities.
  4. For being mentally stable and physically active.
  5. For being born a Muslim.
  6. For having internet friends who inspire me and motivate me and for being the sisters that I never had (Yes, I am talking about you , my fellow bloggers :D)
  7. For my pet cat Simba, whose little actions of affection and adorability make my day.
  8. For being born a desi, because I don’t have to worry about rent and bills ever (not at my parents’ house till marriage and not at my husband’s house after).
  9. For being born a muslim desi because I get to wear such colourful dresses and attend heaps of functions (weddings are a 3 day event (3 dresses for 3 occasions), Eid is a 3 day event (3 new dresses :D) , aqiqas, family gatherings every weekend, etc. etc.).
  10. For the Lord Almighty to bless me with all of the above alhumdulillah.


***All images via Google Images

Mad about Minions???(Movie Review)

My brothers and I are BIG fans of Despicable Me. We love the girls especially adorable Agnes and the-giant-with-a-heart Gru  who changed our view and showed that even villains can be cool. As if that wasn’t enough,the bumbling Minions tumbled into our hearts with their mindless chuckling and giggling.


When the trailer for Minions came out, we were excited and planned on watching it at the theatres. The trailer was hilarious and we enjoyed the 3 minute clip so much so that we watched it multiple times (not exaggerating). It released in Ramadan here in Australia and we decided to watch it after Eid when the crowds of little kids would have died down. Mikaeel’s university had not yet reopened, mine had (I skipped the lecture that day) and my older brother had returned from his class by midday. We were playing out the dialogues in the car and laughing hysterically as we entered the parking lot for the cinema. We were excited like a bunch of little kids who had heard the ice cream van. Yes, we are in our 20’s and we proudly declare that animated movies are not just for children. I bet you wouldn’t be ashamed of watching Tom and Jerry no matter how old you get.

We got the tickets and were seated in the middle. There weren’t much kids. In fact, there were more young adults like us than kids.Would have to do with the fact that it was a school afternoon.As soon as the movie started, everyone settled down. The movie started quite alright and we were awaiting for those jokes that would have us in zealous overlaughter (I made that word up : overlaughter not zealous). And we waited. And we waited. The movie ended and we waited because we thought maybe the end credits would have us rolling on the floors.

disappointed minion

Long story short : Utterly disappointed. Did not even incite a chuckle. The only funny and ingenious bits were in the trailer. So if you want to watch the Minions : DO NOT!!

Watch the trailer. It’s free. It’s funny.It saves time.

***All images via Google Images

Life of a Loner

If you read the title and assumed that I am going to complain on how lonely I am while others are out socializing, you would be wrong. I am not complaining but I am not too proud of it either.


Ever since I can remember, I used to enjoy parties and socializing and having a good laugh. But coming home and entering the sanctity, the warmth and solitude of home, now that, I enjoyed that more. I still do. While everyone else is posting on social media about how much fun they are having on weekend or meeting up with their mates, my only accomplishment worthy of mentioning would be that I was successful in making delicious chocolate mousse. While everyone is clicking selfies or snapping away on Snapchat on a recent meetup, I am at home, in bed, checking it all out. Now it’s not that I don’t get invites.I get heaps of invites, both on Facebook and personal. Why don’t I attend? Various reasons

  1. Religious reasons (I can’t go places such as clubs, pubs and discos (total no-no).My friend is a DJ and has invited me multiple times on Facebook to go clubbing with her and I can’t explain to her without offending her. She seemed nonplussed when I replied religious reasons and I don’t really know how to delve into it deeper without having an hour conversation).
  2. When-there-are-no-kids-your-age reason. This mainly happens during desi get-togethers. All aunties and uncles are busy gossiping away, leaving me in charge of their little kids. They don’t officially ask me to babysit but what you gonna do when you are stuck with kids whining and crying? Keep them entertained of course!!I get bored in the process. So now I attend a party once in a while but try to avoid them if I can.
  3. When your Muslim friends invite you to a lunch and choose a restaurant which sells halal chicken but also sell pork or an Indian restaurant that has all chicken and beef menu but also sell alcohol. Now the restaurants claim that they cook and fry separately, which might be true but when you have teenagers behind the counter cooking and cleaning at such places, you can’t assume they would be too careful not mixing oil or changing oils of the fryers or cleaning dishes well enough before using it for halal chicken. I mean cleaning their own rooms seems a hurdle to them. And I was a teenager once. And I know that even though I am a perfectionist when it comes to cleaning and scrubbing, even I used to get lazy once in a while.Even if there aren’t teenagers working but adults, I still wouldn’t risk it.The chicken is not halal anymore if a drop of oil that was used to cook/fry pork gets on the chicken. I avoid such places altogether.
  4. When you go to a party but people have already formed groups or you go to a party and have seen them after ages while they have been meeting practically every weekend and are having a conversation about something that happened at a party two weeks ago to which you did not go to and hence have no clue what they are talking about. You sit there clueless, not really getting the jokes and they are laughing so hysterically, they are in tears. You feel a bit lost or the feeling that you don’t belong there. So then you vow that either you will attend EVERY party from then on or mute and exit the group.Knowing me, I do the latter.


And hence, tis the life of an eternal loner who would rather spend weekends writing blog entries and playing Sudoku or word puzzles than be turnt up for the weekends. And that’s nothing to be ashamed off or pitied on.Do what makes you comfortable. The only downside is your friends are going to think you are a haughty snob but oh well, doesn’t warm tea (or coffee) and warm bed sound heavenly?

girl with tea

*** All images via Google Images. Excuse the spelling of “Because” in 3 reasons image. I inserted it  because it was spot on and fit with the article perfectly.

Say No to Racism!!!

I was rushing to my class today morning when this dude just pops out of nowhere and hands me this pamphlet that screams : SAY NO TO RACISM!!! JOIN THE DISCUSSION 5:30 P.M TODAY AT THE STATE LIBRARY!! (I made up the venue). As always, I toss pamphlets into the next rubbish bin that I find and this was no exception. I threw it away but not before actually thinking about the impact the words had on me.

I recall the time when I was in the metro with my parents and we sat across a lady, who after a few minutes, excused herself, claiming to be claustrophobic. Bear in mind, it was peak hour, 5 in the evening and hence the train would be jam-packed with office-goers and students rushing home after a long day. If she truly felt claustrophobic, she would get out of the train and board the next to next one when the rush hour had died down. But instead she just sat behind us, right in the middle of where it was so crowded that people had to stand due to lack of seating spaces. I could only assume that she had incorrectly diagnosed herself of claustrophobia when in fact she was suffering from Islamophobia.


Australia always has something or the other with different minority groups. Doesn’t help with the fact that Tony Abbott is only adding fuel to the fire. Then there are media people (Andrew Bolt of Herald Sun),handing out generalizations and incorrect knowledge to the masses who just chew up on it and sit in fear of any hijabis or extremists. Narrow minded bigots who yell at others to go back where they came from, could you kindly look back a couple of generations and see how your forefathers were shipped from Britain as convicts?


Refugees , Muslims and Aboriginal people are all people. There are good and bad in each population group. If we are posting labels of terrorism on ALL Muslims, why don’t we label all white American males as shooters and British as looters (who plundered vast wealths from India and other colonies)?

Before I conclude my rant, I would like to clarify that I am not validating any shooting or terror attack, or supporting those who purport violence. I detest savage and brute attacks of power.I detest closed minds. I detest brainwashing masses of people with misguided information. What I especially detest is being placed in the same category as the people I detest.

*Side Note : Not all Australians are rednecks. That would just be generalizing them (and oh my,how I truly detest doing that!!). Some are truly the loveliest people I have known. Another blog post on that later.

***All images via Google Search.

Behind the Scenes

Ok , so when I first made the commitment to start blogging like a week ago, I made myself promise that I would blog 5 days a week, no excuses. I would take the weekend off for family commitments, to catch up on my studies, and to plan what to write next or if inspiration struck me, I could start writing drafts. Believe it or not, most of my posts are written during these family parties where I have no one of my age to strike up a conversation with and so I am huddling on my phone, typing away while aunties around me try to catch a glimpse on who I am texting so furiously.

girl texting

I have just started my final semester of my degree in Biotechnology with 1 core unit and 2 electives. (3 electives at the start but I dropped one off as schedule was getting over-hectic (is over-hectic even a word?)). I tutor English to secondary level kids for scholarship exams on Sundays and I recently have volunteered in this mentoring program of RMIT, in2science, which is basically going to a secondary level school in the area that you live in and guide and advise the students about the differences of secondary and tertiary level of education and how exciting university life is. So I go there on Mondays. Saturday and Friday evenings are booked in for family get togethers. Rest of the week, it’s university. Now normally I am fine with all this because its going pretty chill at university for the first two weeks. But when your lecturers start piling you up with assignments and assessments, that’s when the balance tips over. Of course the fact that I procrastinate on my uni work just serves as a cherry on top of the huge cake of crazy chores.

overwhelmed (1)

The deadline for this mini (look how deceiving these lecturers can be while naming their assignments (it’s not MINI at all!!)) assignment tutorial task is 5 pm tomorrow. And wonders of wonders, why am I (the master procrastinator) doing it a day before, you may ask? Well, it’s not to do with the fact that I have straightened my ways (aww hell no!!), but I have a lecture from 8:30 to 11:30, then an hour break, then a tutorial from 12:30 to 1:30 and a practical from 2 to 6 p.m. So by the time, I exit the laboratory, I will have missed the deadline. Hence, the struggle to submit it tonight is real.

You know when you are doing an assignment at the last-minute but there is always the distractions of social media bugging you and hence you can’t focus? Well, my guilty conscience wouldn’t let me do my not-so mini assignment tutorial task until I actually blogged and hence I present to you my word vomit.

I am sorry, there wasn’t actual content to blog today, but I wanted to let you know behind the scenes of the cause and that in future, if my posts seem a bit off, you will know why. I will still blog 5 days (crap content or not). That is a promise I promise to keep (insert some inspirational quote to make you weep) (wow,that rhymed).

*** All images are taken from Google Search.