Closing Pandora's Box

It’s bee a very long time since you last wrote. You write very inspirative post,” said the General.

A few days ago, I decided to step outside into the garden and go looking for bugs. I didn’t get very far as the grass was too long; hugging my shins and almost reaching up to my knees in other places. And so, I sat down a few steps away from the kitchen door and watched. I sat there for over an hour. I saw life, I saw order, I saw determination, and I saw hope. Seeing and looking are two different things, but that’s a discussion for a different day. I was looking at weed filled grass but seeing something else. I’d like to share with you two photographs I took on my phone and you can tell me whether after looking you too can see that which I did.

Next to my leg on the right side was a dandelion and on the left some tiny pink flowers, through which were crawling many little insects. I watched them as they moved about on legs thinner than a single strand of my hair, gracefully scuttling about, almost as if playing hide and seek with me and my phone. But luckily (for me) there was one insect, so engrossed in what it was doing, it didn’t care about what I was doing, and so I took a picture of it.

It is normal for us to be so dazzled by surrounding beauty like of the flower, that we do not even notice the real beauty; the beauty of the effort put in by the miniscule insect to conquer the flower and reach its destination. In the same way in our lives it is those things, those people, that we take for granted who become like the insect in the picture above (do you see it?), that get forgotten in the presence of something seemingly more beautiful regardless of how temporary it is. Yet they are always there, trying and trying again, not giving up on what they believe, not giving up on you because that’s who they are and what they do. (Thank you, my dear insects friends).

They say, blow the dandelion away, make a wish and it’ll come true. And they wish for you to do this and that, so you give and give from the kind depths of your mortal heart, till there seems to be nothing more to give. You are left hanging and it takes so much strength. Hang in there my dear, have faith, grit your teeth together and remember the insect, unfazed by anything around it. The thing about being strong is that no-one asks how you are, or how you feel. So let me ask you now, ‘how are you today?’

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Photograph of insect climbing flower taken from personal photography available here.
Photograph of blown away dandelion taken from person photography available here.

It was one of those mornings; falling out of bed the wrong way, narky moods and that heaviness in the heart which dragged you down into the murky waters where visibility was markedly reduced. And when drowned in the darkness, if you even tried to open your eyes, the particles in the water would cause a burning pain making you shut them again. No matter how much you yearned to see, the pain of doing so would stop you. That same heaviness in the depths of your heart, as it sank, pulled with it a string that tightened the noose around your insides; suffocating and leaving you gasping for happiness. Somewhere in the darkness is a light they say, one that you cannot find and you wonder whether it's too far away or whether you are blind. Yeah it was that kind of morning.

She hadn’t called like she promised she would. Promises, made with such vigour and feeling, yet broken so easily like the snapping of a stalk on a windy day. What are words if you don’t mean them when you say them?¹ Lies portrayed as honest truth. Do not make promises when engorged on the elixir of happiness and neither take decisions when hate has its hooks lodged firmly in your heart. She always apologised when this happened. Maybe not straight after, maybe the next morning, or after a few days, or when she remembered. So he didn’t mind too much. He knew he would hear from her. He didn’t know when, but he knew.

A bench, empty and desolate. Seats covered with moss and insects crawling all over, on seeing it however, he smiled. And the rush began. There were those memories he had always wanted to forget. But he realised that by spending so much time and effort keeping those unwanted memories at bay, he may come to resemble that statue of the grieving parents; transfixed and petrified by the past, looking over the garden that never grew.² Mourning till eternity.

The beauteous yesterday is fading away
like a blushed twilight;
Though nothing can bring back
the hours of sweet treasured past,
I will grieve not but rather find
splendour in the memories.³

The bench looked old and forgotten, but it reminded him of a memory. Many years ago, they had promised one day they would sit on a park bench and read the story of their lives together. And smile. And laugh. And poke. And have fly inviting moments. He remembered the walks at midnight in Hyde Park, hand in hand as they talked, discussing the mysteries of life and all its treasures. He remembered the late night calls and the choking on red bull to stay awake. He remembered the nicknames, sounding so irrelevant to others, but full of meaning. He remembered standing in the rain after lectures and listening to her as she mourned her losses. He remembered the coffee dates and burning his tongue on his first ever mocha while sitting on the train. He remembered craving pizza and it was carried all the way from the other side of the city for him. He remembered the anniversary they celebrated every year and how she always left him speechless. He remembered her last words the day before she died.

Though there were lines in his diary he wished he had never written, there were pages upon pages that he wished to never forget. For every memory that brought about the shackling heaviness in the heart, there were countless more, priceless and pure, that set him free.

He never forgot people. He remembered every memory and smiled. There is always a reason to smile.

*****

These two posts (part 1, and 2) were written in response to a tweet I saw a few weeks ago in which the person had said how the “suckish people” made it so hard to appreciate the loved ones in our lives. I couldn’t disagree more. For every “suckish” person I come across it makes me realise just how blessed I am with the family and close few close friends that I have. And it makes me love them even more.

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Photograph of a book of memories I made for a friend from personal photography, available here.
¹ “What are words if you don’t mean them when you say them.” In reference to a previous post, available here.
² Reference to the statue of the Grieving Parents, by Käthe Kollwitz, in the memory of her youngest son who died on the battlefield during World War I, and was buried in the Vladslo German war cemetery.
³ This was a quote from a very small diary I once gave to someone. Some one from the past, who used to be a friend.

She said she would call at midnight. The beginning of a new day. But not the beginning of a new story. They had not spoken for a long time and he had waited and worried. It wasn’t the first time either.

As the second hand moved to mark quarter to, he slid into bed, propped himself against a pillow with a book in hand and the phone resting on his legs. And he waited. With sombre excitement. The words on the page became like raindrops, merging into each other, their beginning and end undistinguishable from those around them. He checked his phone again. 23:48. What would they talk about when she called? He had many things to ask her; the lack of replies to his texts, her quietness and where she kept disappearing to. He also had many things to tell her too, but he never got the chance as she would go on and on and on about herself. There were many words unspoken. But that was okay, he didn’t mind. As long as she was okay and said what she wanted, that’s all that mattered.

The alert on his phone vibrated telling him it was time. Midnight had come. He was always punctual unlike many of his friends. People came into his life like seasons. Unexpected and bringing with them a range of emotions, ideas and promises. But when their storms passed and the rains had cleansed away the dirt and the virgin sun put a spring step into their steps, they too would leave. He never forgot the people. The blessings and the curse of keeping diaries. Images of what he had seen and felt remained in his mind, many of them too painful to be allowed into full awareness. Our memories, which lend us a pattern to our lives, also condemn us to relive our past. His eyes bore witness to the struggles and other episodes of trial he had seen through his life. No matter how many times he tried to bury them; the burning of the pages, the avoidance of places, they would shift in their shape like a constantly mutating virus causing infection. A constant struggle to banish those stubborn memories, would only result in them coming back, again and again.

00:27. What if she didn’t call? The last time they had spoken she had been brief and left half way through. He never even had a chance to say goodbye. But she told him why and he understood. He always understood. But sometimes he wished there was some magic to reverse those memories, but no matter what he tried, it didn’t work.

Sleep stole him while he waited. The time was 01.03. She didn’t call that night.

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Photograph of burning letters from personal photography, available here.

“So this is it then?” she asked, staring at him intently.

“Yeah,” he replied, nodding slowly.

“But why? Why now?”  He remained quiet and continued to stir his latte. “Will you stop that please?” She said irately.

“What? I’m just mixing this,” he retorted.

“You haven’t even added the sugar yet, what are you mixing it for?”

Quiet.

“Is it because of the haters?” she nudged trying to understand.

“I’ve had a lot of haters. Some people hate because they’re jealous of what you have. Others hate because they are unable to refute what you have to say due to ignorance or stupidity. But sometimes, just like I don’t necessarily like everyone I come across doesn’t mean they gotta like me either,” he said quietly, eyes still not meeting hers.

“What about the others? Surely not everyone is a hater?” She said.

“Are you trying to make me change my mind?” he asked, a flicker of a smile in his eyes.

“Just shurrup and answer the question,” she retorted.

“No, not everyone is a hater. There’s balance in everything. With the bad there is always some good.”

“So then why?” she asked for the second time.

His latte was cold, lacking in warmth just like the words that came out his mouth. Resigned words that had accepted fate, cold and calculating. He finally looked up, held her tenderly in his gaze and let his words fill the empty gaps that remained. “Everyone talks these days,  but there’s only a few people who actually say something worth listening to,” he explained. “I just need some time to deal with a few things and find the one that used to own this place. It’s his responsibility to bring this place back to its former glory.”

“Deal with what?”

He shook his head but didn’t speak.

“But will you be coming back? So this isn’t goodbye?”

The poker face was back. The mask had fallen. His eyes gave nothing away. “I just don’t know yet. I don’t even know if I want to be back. And what if I don’t find the person who built this place from scratch? What point will there be then? None.”

Silence sat in between them again. No-one else seemed to notice. The waitress cursed trying to clean the marks left by the man with his Swiss army knife. What mark will I leave behind he thought to himself. Will people curse when I am gone too?

[5^th May 2012]

*****

I wrote the above before I was leaving but didn’t finish it so it never got posted. I thought now was an appropriate time to do so.

If it is time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. – The Doctor (Doctor Who)

Ladies and gentlemen, friends and foes, girls and boys, giraffes and giraffesses (?) I am back!

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Title: Leave out all the rest – Linkin Park

Here’s a recap on the year. Fasten your seatbelts and enjoy the reading ride:

August is described as a month of change, a month in which shedding takes place in preparation of new beginnings. It was in this month that I wrote my first ever blog post, giving a brief overview of the story of Pandora and her box as well as justifying my joining of the blogging world. I told you about the life lessons I learnt from my first ever driving lesson about trust and being able to give what you expect in return. My last post of the month was revolved around the quote ‘Instead of loving your enemies, treat your friends a little better,’ and we discussed the giving of gifts.

It was in September that I posted my reflections on the passing away of a dear friend in a document titled ‘For your Story’. A few days later it was Eid and I shared a short poem with you. Seeing my brother run out half naked from the toilet inspired my next post and you told me about your fears. Having gotten over fear of spiders and heights, I told you my thoughts about the dark side of love in which one is totally blinded and thus oblivious to the pain they are being put through. With the beginning of schools, colleges and universities I shared with you a poem a friend sent to me and we talked about the importance of time. The next and last post of the month was another spider related story but this time it was about how a spider helped me get an A* in my biology GCSE and in the process reaffirm my faith in God.

The month of October began with the sharing of the butterfly of happiness. Then I asked whether you thought too much and gave you a small activity which helped you decide. In the subsequent post we discussed the difficulties of saying sorry and the potential benefits of it. Having been attending the volunteer training at the hospice I shared with you some of the things I learnt about honesty, hope, communication and understanding. Continuing with the same theme the next post dealt with the positive aspects of love, not of the romantic kind but that which is derived from being human and mutual understanding.

‘I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky,’ was the title of the initial post of the penultimate month of the year  about dreaming. Next I told you my mother’s advice about tomorrow and shared a poem about the topic topic. This was followed by three short posts about Remembrance Day, Eid and a comical clip with an important message. A few days later I presented my thoughts on hate concentrating in particular on terrorism after listening to a discussion on radio [Part 2]. To end the month, I showed you a picture my friend sent to me and also a song about climbing the mountains of life.

Continuing my theme of hate [Part 2], I shared my thoughts on the hate preaching nature of some Islamic schools in Britain. You then told me examples of stupid things you had heard or seen in our next discussion. This was followed by the 3^rd and final post on the hate series and contained a beautiful interview with a niqabi lady. Happiness seen at the bottom of a microscope was then spread among my readers. Coping with grief and birthdays were on the agenda of two great friends, one deceased and one still beautifully young. Death was also mentioned in the subsequent post and I shared an extract from an excellent book. To end the year I shared with you a few facts about myself and the happiness from an award I received.

Beginning the new year in traditional fashion I told you my resolutions for the year. The 6th marked one 1 year since the passing away of a dear friend and apart from a poem, I told you how my feelings had changed. On a much lighter note we then watched a good scene from a not so good film about dreamers. My little sister provided me with chocolate love and I forwarded you some. Next we stared at the heavens and took delight from the beauty of the stars. This was followed by a recollection of a mundane and somewhat eventful day at university. On the topic of university we discussed positive mental attitude in relation to complimentary medicines. I then showed you the front cover of my set of reflections that a friend made for me and you told me you’d like me to impart my medical knowledge. But before I did that I gave you a brief summary of a Khutbah (Friday Sermon) and explained why you were beautiful.

You started the month by telling me some of the things you believed in but were unable to prove. I then told you about the bank account we have which is topped up with more than £80,000 each night. After this I told you the importance of darkness and how it helps to see the light by showing you a picture. Soon after that we celebrated my birthday together and then I shared with you a leaflet I made on the link between Vitamins and Alzheimer’s. Continuing with the medical theme information about the cardiovascular system was shared. This was followed by an inspirational song video I found on  friend’s blog and thought I’d share it with you guys. The uprisings in the Middle East then began to dominate the news. I made you laugh by sharing with you some conversations with some friends and wished you all a happy weekend.

You finally got to see what I looked like and this made way to even more pictures from our family trip to Brugge. Next I shared with you something from my high school folder. I put forward to you another few inspirational extracts from a book which taught the value of living. Having quickly forgotten that, I showed you how I wasted time in my lectures. We then discussed the issue of anti-Semitism in parts of the Muslim community. With continuing unrest in the world, I wrote my first poem in 3 years and we prayed together for those in need. The month ended with us discussing an interview I posted with Britain’s most feminist Muslim.

April was mainly a month of awards. I received the inspiration award, stylish blogger award and the seriously rad blog award. In between all that I shared with you a conversation I had with a work colleague about the pornography industry.

The month of May was quiet due to exams, and when they finished I shared with you some thoughts and photos I made while gardening. Next you told me what you thought of my fictional writing when I shared a piece about an unknown individual. Finally, I requested your prayers for my father going into surgery.

The General kicked off the month with a guest post about none other than myself.This was then followed by an exclusive interview in which you were able to learn about me. Another guest post was next, by Max, who shared the beautifully inspiring story of the emperor moth. I then told you about a primary school teacher that ate dog food. The month then ended with a discussion about choices.

July was a very quiet month, with my writer’s block in full swing. I shared with you my High School Motto and we discussed perseverance.

I shared with you a speech I gave at the mosque. This was followed with even more awards. Most recently, I posted a few photos from my local area of the rioting that took place here in London and the rest of the UK.

*****

[This is a scheduled post]

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Title: Welcome to wherever you are – Bon Jovi.

Each person is like a jotter, the days of their life penned on the pages within. Some pages are covered in squares, each minute detail, pre-planned and organised is written meticulously in the separate boxes. Others are scribbled onto lined paper. There is some order retained in these days too, but at times when the things don’t go as planned or too well, the flow of the words can be seen to break apart, no longer comfortably hugging the line. There are some pages that are completely blank for the days that cannot be described in coherent sentences, thus abstract words, feelings, pictures or colours do them better justice. Each day our story is recorded. There are some who are able to translate these writings into the words of man. He was never really a writer, but this is his story.

*****

His eyes were bloodshot. Each askew streak of blood represented a tribulation, rarely his, that had kept him awake at night. The redness shrieked STOP, they had seen enough already. Remnants of dark bags sagged under the burdens of what he had witnessed. The French say ‘les yeux sont le miroir de l'âme,’¹ but when people looked into his eyes they saw nothing. There was no light behind them that would illuminate the secrets of his soul. It was like a black hole; you could observe things that went in, but if you stepped too close and looked too hard, you too would be sucked into the nothingness.

His skin was really quite soft and smooth, except on the hands and feet. The soles had been roughened by the treacherous paths of his journey through life and the hands hardened by moving the obstacles that were blocking his way. He tried to take good care of his skin, as well as he possibly could. Deep cleansing face wash followed by a healthy layer of a special brand of moisturiser in the morning usually did the trick.

The hair on his head took care of itself. It wasn’t too long and neither was it too short. Somewhere in between; of a length through which he could pass his fingers but not long enough to blinker his vision. Like grass, it would dance to the slightest of songs played by the wind and settle down appropriately without a fuss when the music stopped. He rarely ever used hairsprays, gels or waxes except on special occasions. But even then sometimes he just didn’t bother with the effort. It was lighter than it had once been and hidden among the dark matte black streaks of white could be seen, unwanted like weeds that had invaded.

People said he looked older than he really was, but what is age? And older compared to what? He put Aloe Vera Vaseline on his parched lips to give them some shine and practiced his smile in front of the mirror for the last time. Then he left.

Yes I know I have a really long eye lashes, and no I don’t curl them.

*****

I don’t talk much about myself. It’s just not something I enjoy doing. There are a select few people who I do talk to about everything but sometimes a flicker in their eyes makes we wonder whether some of them really couldn’t care less. Anyway, that’s not the point. Because of my few word attitude, the General has a notion in his head that when I leave the walls of university, I turn into some gangster pimp with three girlfriends; muffin, AK, and I can’t even remember the last one. So to dispel all these mind wanderings of his I have promised to give him an open, no restrictions imposed interview on Sunday. That’s in two days time. Knowing the General and some of the things that go on inside that head of his, I have a really bad feeling I’m going to regret this. But it was a promise and so it shall happen. I owe two other people interviews too but I think one of them has completely forgotten.

Today the guys celebrated Dum’s birthday which was last month on the 27^th. I didn’t go. I couldn’t go. I’ve been getting ill quite a LOT recently and finally got an appointment, the only appointment, today. It made me really sad.

In other news, I have made an about.me page the idea of which I found on Gian Faye’s blog, Loading Info. Her blog is really cool and focuses on the internet and all things related. There have been many instances when I have read something on her blog about a website or a program and after having done so, made use of it. You can find the link to my about.me page it on the right hand side. I have also made a twitter because my phone has a twitter app. But I don’t really know how to use it so yeah.

That’s all for today folks. Have a lovely weekend.

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Title: Writer – Ellie Goulding
All photographs in this post are from my personal photography
¹Translation in English reads ‘the eyes are windows into the soul’

On Monday, I have immunity and infection lectures in the afternoon from 13.30-16.30 / 17.00. This week’s lectures were 2; mucosal immunology and the second one was on something to do with bacterial infections and investigating them. Half way through the first lecture I was overcome by sleep and it required an elbowing from Furbeed to wake me up. The second lecture was actually pretty useless so I took out The Times 2 crossword and for the first time ever (in recent days), the great minds of Furbeed and I solved the whole thing:

We started approximately 10 minutes into the second lecture and finished about 10 minutes before the end. The lecture was just over an hour long, so do the maths and work out how much time we spent on it. We started doing the code word on the right, but stopped when the lecture ended.

Because of my sleeping and doing crosswords in lectures I have a mountain of work to do. I have 2 essays to write for the end of the month (still need to read the original research articles and do some background work too), finish my dissertation for next month, and revise for exams. My first exam is in early May, and looking at the amount of work I have left myself, it makes me want to cry. Well not really. I’ve made myself a revision timetable and if I stick to that, I should hopefully be able to get everything done well in time.

In terms of blogging, I have started 3 posts, but haven’t got round to finishing any of them. As for blog reading, I read nearly every single blob blog people write, but don’t always comment due to the hectic rush that I seem to always be in now-a-days. Forgive me!

It’s about time I read my posts on the value of time, my new years resolutions and actually acted on them. Anyway, back to dissertation writing. *Yawn*

[This is a scheduled post]

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Title: Survivor – Destiny’s Child
Picture 1, showing completed crossword from personal photography.

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD

Some of you may remember I posted a collection of reflections back in September in the name of “For Your Story” which dealt with my reaction to the passing away of Charley. A very lovely friend of mine, Yara, drew a front cover for it (above), signifying the single path which in its continuation leads to life and ultimately to death. Is death not a part of life, just as the two sides of the tree are still part of the same tree? It is an amazing drawing and I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to her for sparing some of her time to make this drawing.

I’d also like to thank Hijabi Hippie Hypo for awarding me the versatile blogger award. There were some conditions to go along with the award, and as I have already made it once, you can view it here. It is also her blog’s 1st anniversary today and so a very very happy birthday HHH! You all should pay her a visit (click here).

In other news, I was requested by a reader who wished to remain anonymous, that I should start a medical blog. What do you guys think? If you’re going to give me thumbs up is there anything in particular you’d like me to start with?

Yesterday I heard an amazingly thought provoking Khutbah (sermon) on Jumu’ah which I shall share with you soon. Also, I’ve been working on the ‘closet’ post which is self reflective and consists of 2 parts that will be posted in the near future (next week-ish).

That’ all for today because the football is about to start, so I take my leave, and wish you all a very happy weekend. OMG! I’ve missed the first half. NOOOOO

:)

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Title: Reach – S Club 7
Drawing Cover for For your story by Yara.

My little sister surprisingly gave me a box of chocolates. “This is how much I love you,” she said. When I opened it, I discovered the contents to be as follows:

I thought I’d share some love with all you lovely people…

…but then I eated it.

Uni tomororw, I can’t wait. But I have a really bad cold, my nose tap is extremely loose, my head hurts, as do my back and legs, and I feel so bored and exhausted. I hope and pray you all are in the best of health and I hope you have a lovely, productive and enjoyable week ahead.

:)

PS
I have a LOT of blog reading to do (I will visit you soon!). And a LOT of posts to put up. There’s one scheduled for errr someday I can’t remember, all about my love for universes, and then I have to write one about the closet, a book review and a film review. I’ve written another about an old discussion I heard on BBC 4. Don’t hold your breath otherwise you’ll be holding it for a LONG time.

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Title: What a wonderful world – Louis Armstrong
Photograph – Personal photography

It is that time of year when people sit down and reminisce over the happenings of the year that is reaching its end.  The good times bring laughter and the sad times bring with them a silence which in it self is louder than any other sound. But it’s not the past that I dwell on, for it is something that we can not change, cannot undo, cannot repeat but instead I look in the mirror and note what I have become. Am I happy by what I see? From being that individual who used to give others endopolitis (don’t Google it, you wont find it) I am in need of being infected by it. I’m a lot quieter, a lot more reserved, but that doesn’t mean I don’t take part and enjoy. I’ve learned to appreciate the value of family (yeah, smelly brothers included), the wonders of friends and friendship, the significance of the other small things we overlook and take for granted; the coffee dates, the laughter and having someone to give a hug. I’ve come to realise we do not remember days, we remember moments.

Uh, and I heard ‘em say, nothin’ ever promised tomorrow today.
But we’ll find a way
And nothing lasts forever but be honest babe, it hurts but it may be the only way.
They say people in your life are seasons,
And anything that happen is for a reason…¹

*****

When I started blogging back in August, I remember sitting there for ages just thinking of a title. That was probably the hardest part of it all. After consistent nagging from a few friends (Supz in particular) Closing Pandora’s Box was given a virtual birth. At that time I couldn’t even dream of having so many followers let alone receive a blog award, all thanks of which go to Furree Katt, who gave it to me. Thank you Furreeeeeeeeeeeeee. :)

According to the rules, I have to state 7 facts about me and award it to 7 others. Then those 7 people will have to do the same. So here goes:

7 facts about me you probably* didn’t know:

1. I eat when I am bored. And if I stop eating when I am bored then you know I am extremely bored.
2. I rarely ever get spots on my face, but when I do, they’re always in the same few annoying places.
3. I have never eaten prawns. Most people when they hear that have an ‘inviting fly moment’ which basically looks something like .
4. I write out every blog post by hand first using a special pen before finally typing it up onto Windows Live Writer. Even then there are countless mistakes.
5. I absolutely, very muchly, totally love adore football. I’m a bit of a fanatic really, borderline obsession some may say. Manchester United all the way!
6. I have the concentration span of a cucumber. Sitting in lectures I get distracted less than half the way through and start writing poems, drawing, texting, or just eating.
7. I absolutely, very muchly, totally hate despise writing about myself. I just don’t know where to start really or what to say. Ummm...

7 bloggers who I give this award to, in no particular order:

1. Smiley’s (╚» š ρ α я к ℓ ι n g š м ι ℓ є š «╝) was the only blog that I used to read before starting my own. Her writing is uh-maz-ing (is that spelt right?!); being extremely captivating, full of humour and so naturally written. (forgive me!)
2. Yours Truly ({{ Yours Truly }} ) writes very rarely, but when she writes, she writes absolute gems. Write more youuuuu!
3. Furree Katt (The Jackky Bhagnani Obsession) was the one who gave me this award and though it is slightly weird to give the same award back to the person who gave it to you, I must do it for one simple reason. Before I started blogging I used to dislike Bollywood a LOT, but it is because of Furree’s undying love of Jackky that I’m willing to give it another chance. Oh and her blog is very very lovely to read.
4. Alice (Alice in Galaxyland) was recommended to us by one of our lecturers at university. Her blog, mainly about science and all related matters, is extremely interesting, oozing with logic and lots of mind-blowingly amazing pictures.
5. Street Guru (What the world needs now...) writes posts that are full of inspiration or food for thought. Every post has something for everyone to take away and it really does live up to the title.
6. Alpha Za (Home of the Snapping Turtle) is an excellent writer. He writes about current (and relevant) matters in such a witty manner you can’t help but shout Bravo! while LMAO-ing or ROFL-ing.
7. рεяfεcтℓγ▪ιмpзяfзcт’s (I haven't lost my mind.) is a blog I recently started following. It’s quite good actually, the striking i have no fear honesty with which it is written is really intriguing.

This will probably be my last post of the year. So I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a very happy new year. Don’t look back on the past with tears in your eyes, but open up your arms and embrace what the new year has to offer. Go that extra mile, treat yourself, give yourself what you truly deserve, don’t settle for second best. I remember talking to someone at the beginning of this year of all the hard work and the challenges that were looming ahead and he said something quite simple yet so profound:

There will always be obstacles and challenges in whatever you do, try not to think of them as such, think of them as being opportunities and that way you’ll be less daunted. Think of it like this, you’ve only got once chance, you’ve got the opportunity, don’t let it pass you. Grasp them whenever you can.

May this new year bring you all happiness, success, love, but most importantly may it bring you what you deserve; the fulfilment of your prayers and wishes.

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* Some of you may already know some of these things, hence the emphasis on ‘probably’.
Title: Home – Michael Bublé
¹ Heard ‘em say – Kayne West ft. Adam Levine