So, hey. Me, again. As usual: it’s been a while.¬†University life has a tendency to keep you either too caught up with the all em’ endless deadlines or too¬†mentally-drained to sit down and¬†write some words, no matter how¬†direly inactive your blog’s been. And I know that’s such a typical excuse for basically being¬†one heck of an absent¬†blogger but¬†you’ll just have to accept it because YAY DISAPPOINTMENT….?

Random browsing on GoodReads led me to this quote

I am awfully sentimental. Of books, belongings, people, places. It matters very little how positive or negative the experience was. If it shared some meaningful time in my life, I’ll have trouble letting go.
‚Äē¬†Beau Taplin

and OH BOY OH BOY, did it REALLY¬†hit home with me. I seriously am¬†very¬†obviously¬†sentimental since who knows when. It is weird though, because I can’t exactly explain the logic behind it. Guess there’s just something I leave in places and times and people and things and moments, kind of like shedding a bit of who you are in that moment and just leaving it there. And then it’s like¬†automatically everything has a connection to who YOU are/were and the thought of moving on is more than just difficult.

That’s why, perhaps, I tend to write a lot directly/indirectly on the concept of time and it’s magnitude of presence and the¬†ever increasing reduction of human life, shredded by the second. I mean, it’s hard to fathom a clock as a stopwatch,¬†even though it pretty much is. Not that I am necessarily daunted by the future¬†or¬†what it holds. But more so, just the realisation that tomorrow would mean leaving today…replacing today, being ok with leaving behind something that once was so important to you, only for this to happen over and over and over…that’s what I find troubling.

Eventually, every step ahead becomes bittersweet and hell nah, 

I don’t like bittersweet.¬†¬†

wrote and illustrated weeks before i read the quote. still holds true, i think.

time kills clocks, too. 
and you wonder why
i’m sentimental.
i wish i knew.




you put on a brave face
for me. for us.
but i’m choking.

(can’t you see?)

it’s killing me;
this pretending. like
you’re still just as
brave? we both
know that’s
not true.

ignorance is bliss
but having to ignore is

and as you walk out
the front door,
for me, for us,
i don’t know how
not to notice your 
hands become

and frailer.

(i can’t let you see.)

Creative Folks: Making The Networks.

Heya folks. Ok, I do wish there was a more sophisticated way of beginning these posts, something charismatic ya know? Like the subtlest of head nods and the hip-est of eye winks (eye winks? really?! finished school and all but here I am with preposterous language skillz. nice. ?) Alas, I have failed you and we shall continue, deprived of all the charisma and candy in the world.

big wow.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I’ve been thinking/noticing/staring-at-the-wall for a couple of days. Not continuously, duh. Figuratively. You know when you’re¬†a noob and you spend so long reading about the thing you’re interested in or want to pursue? Like, for me, this whole blogging adventure to be precise. I like to pretend to be thoughtful and read/research on ways to improve or find those hidden industry secrets from acclaimed people on the internet. So to understand what those successful fellas did or didn’t do to make it as far as they have or had and try to take inspiration from their respective journeys.

Obviously, we’re lucky to be living in a world where all these stories of success and progress¬†are so readily available. You don’t have to pluck a bird’s feather, get that high level bird-feather ink and sit under¬†lantern light to finally write something, in hopes of¬†getting¬†it shipped to that one posh library in Oxford or wherever posh¬†libraries used to exist. Nah, we got our Reddits and our Facebooks and our Youtubes and our WordPresses and so on, just endless, empty library shelves¬†floating around in Space 24/7. How sick is that?!

But what I think hasn’t changed is the idea of making the right networks, the need of connections. I, as an aspiring creative, am accustomed to dealing with the creative aspect of this blog (i.e. post planning, writing, rewriting, designing, color picking etc.) on a fairly regular basis. That’s all pretty normal. Yet what isn’t as normal is having to deal with the social a.k.a business aspect of things. Marketing your creativity for the masses. THAT is hardcore stuff.

sed lyfe.And let’s be honest here: I’m not that great at it. I mean, I try to publicise my blog as often as possible without sounding obnoxious but it’s still pretty much uncharted waters. Some¬†people seem to have the business self¬†in them oh-so-naturally, that you severely begin to criticise your not-exactly-introverted-but-still-mostly-shy behaviour. It only gets worse when you assess¬†all these awesome creatives online, be it writers or photographers or youtubers or others, and you start to see this pattern where¬†they were able to use the right sort of network or contact or even friendship,¬†as a¬†springboard¬†for a much greater outreach.

Of course, that’s not to say it WASN’T¬†because of their creative efforts, the time spent planning, writing, editing and all, the importance of those tasks can’t and shouldn’t be diminished, BUT the fact that they had that extra level of support can’t be ignored either. (I mean, living in Saudi Arabia..there¬†really aren’t¬†a whole lot of options when it comes to finding that¬†creative crew of humans which means you seek out and truly¬†treasure people¬†or¬†opportunities¬†you may find! Hmm, perhaps it’s actually¬†a blessing in¬†disguise eh?¬†?¬†)

All in all, I’m immensely¬†grateful¬†to the online connections.¬†Will¬†try not to sound too campy..but the greatest aspect¬†of the World Wide Web¬†is just how easy it is to not feel alone. To find those like-minded people. To realise that no matter how shy or introverted or weird you may be,¬†out-there, somewhere, ARE actual living human beings who can look you in the eye and you’d know…

they understand you.


And honestly,¬†that’s worth more than it seems.


p.s. thank you for understanding. always.

In your debt.

Wrote this a while back, as gratitude for a teacher who¬†helped¬†in more ways¬†than her job required. ūüôā

The first poem
I wrote in
English Class
encouraged me
to be a less
horrible poet.
So I wrote to
impress you 
but who knew
you taught to help
Not through those
‘frame sentences’
I loathed
but the time we
and ended up
making it
I still
long for.
Not once, not twice
but countless times
you being there made
the difference.
Perhaps, it is no wonder 
then, that every poem
I write since when 
you made us write 
that very first;

I owe you.

Then again,
I owe a lot
more too.


Figured Out.

Better a cruel truth than a comfortable delusion.
‚Äē¬†Edward Abbey

perhaps uncertainty is not so foreign after all
and we remain determined in proposing
that you and I reside in a place far more
orderly but look around to see the crowds,
a messed-up mass of people voicing this
confusion to sound all normal, like lying
to ourselves has become so supremely
human that you and I abide to those who

rise above others
proclaim beyond measure:

‚Äúwe‚Äôve got it all figured out.”

oh we, practitioners of delusion,
have perfected our methods, at last. 


p.s.  featured image is the
¬†japanese symbol for ‘truth’


prompt: “by the light of the moon”¬†

by the light of the moon
who is to say you are not as bright as it?
who is to know you as you; moored
by the echoes of his or her or their
by the light of the moon
you come and go.
but who is to bear your



A Self Reminder.

Be fierce for your betterment but better yet;
 be fierce for the betterment of others.

 And if you must tire and stumble,
be certain that gravity too,
could act against itself to lift you up;
only if the audacity to not stay fallen, 
o v e r s h a d o w s
those bruised knees 

your battered self. 

 You must walk for those can not walk,
yet dream of it.


p.s. the header photo’s a drawing¬†for my Facebook project where “I draw¬†every day for 1 year” called Story of Progression.
That one was DAY 134. ūüôā