13th December marked this blog’s 4th birthday (woop woop!), so in keeping with the tradition of writing a blogiversary post below is my verrryyyy overdue review of the past year.
Like everyone’s New Year resolutions which are made and then instantly forgotten/broken, I made a few promises in the last blogiversary post, one being that I’d update the blog every Saturday. It worked for a while but then life happened, as did a three-week illness, which completely messed up my routine and my will power to continue writing.
The truth is: I’ve been exhausted. In a good way. I know it’s a paradox but…
Turning 30 this year was surreal. I woke up feeling like a new person, a person that is whole and comfortable and ready for the next decade (i’A). I felt my life shift into a new routine and it is because of this shift that I consciously decided I was going to enjoy each day as it comes – both the good and the painful.
I love writing, but for the past year I have loved my day job more – I have loved teaching and that is so rare for educators. It’s not easy. 95% of the time, I am exhausted and coming home does not mean my work is done. Far from it. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I have been reluctant to spread myself thinly across the 1001 things that I’d previously, normally, push myself to complete. In the pockets of rest I managed to steal, I didn’t want to force myself to write. I am my own worst critic, and a perfectionist too so I couldn’t half-ass it.
And yes, I know I said I would do monthly gratitude posts and this could have been one of those moments where real life becomes fuel for writing but I just wanted to enjoy those moments alone, without sharing, without sounding like I’m boasting about how amazing life is, without calling for nazar (that ish is real!). I guess you could also say I am learning to self-love and to listen to my body when it tells me to rest.
Anyhoo, for this particular blogiversary edition I’m sharing my top five favourite posts/moments from this year.
So at no. 5 is this poemI wrote early in the year which confuzzled the hell out of a lot of people. You have to know me pretty well to know what the inspiration behind this was and so far, no-body has cracked it. Care to have a go?
There are two women in your life
So you’ll forever feel torn.
Never feel complete, never feel whole.
One takes from you selfishly, the other is yours selflessly.
Two women in your life,
yet neither are truly yours.
I dabbled a bit at writing some satirical pieces this year and as a celebration of our 5 year anniversary, I decided to wow you all with my tried and tested relationship advice.I had hoped Hubsy would help or co-write a guy’s version of this (and he did) but it just didn’t reach my level of cut-throat sarcasm so it’s still sitting in the drafts folder. What do you think, publish or nah?
When watching a series or movie, be sure to pepper viewing time with carefully timed questions, ‘Oh my god, what’s going to happen now?’, scream at the screen: ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’, and my go-to: ‘What did they say? I missed it.’ There is nothing a guy likes more than to press pause and re-explain what you obviously didn’t understand. Never let him forget that he is the brains in this marriage.
3 is for 30and the best thing about birthdays as a teacher is how special your students make you feel. They nag you all year, ‘Miss, when’s your birthday?’ and when the day finally arrives, they say all the right things (thanks guys!)…
Teens are so dramatic. They go from: “What miss, you’re a Mrs? Does that mean you’re married? *asks a friend which one means you’re married, Mrs or Miss, gets no reply ’cause friend is just as clueless*“….to “OMG you have a husband? Do you have kids?” and finally the best one-line slap in the face: ‘You’re old enough to be my mum.’
It’s no lie that I really dislike going back to the UK (have we talked about this before?), and I should really clarify why this is in a separate post (but I can’t do the whole whinging-rant thing, it’s off-putting), but this summer’s vacaywas full of meaningful and memorable conversations.
Nephew #2: Yo aunty look innit you got a sister in Dubai hain?
Me: What you on about? I don’t have a sister.
Niece #2: Exactly, not in real life innit?
Niece #1: Aunty comes out with the best disses.
Niece #2: I know man, I wish she was my teacher so she could diss me in class.
My all-time favourite blogging month was April and I know I’ve said it before – it’s because of my visit to the homeland.
I think this month contributed significantly to the sudden change in my perspective on life. I felt like this month allowed me to gain some closure on past turbulence, lost and absent relationships, and a sense of a muddled identity.
I love each and every post I wrote about Kashmir but most of all, I like this piece written in memory of my grandfather – by the way, I still feel like it’s incomplete in many ways and is lacking something. Maybe I’ll redraft it someday.
As I write this, most of the world is celebrating New Year’s Eve. But in my homeland Kashmir, it is the 150th day of the curfew and a communications lockdown.
Please spare a prayer for the oppressed, spare a prayer for the forgotten…
Memories of you are like waves leaving the shoreline. Cracked sand. Trinkets, shells, and ocean life left behind.
And these days are like out-of-season rain, I think of you but the cracks only half-fill.