Here To Listen

Libraries are fantastic places. Both writers, readers and overworked University students are aware of this. But London libraries are even better; for they don’t just harbour stories in the books, they also harbour them in the people. Over the past couple of days I’ve assisted Toni Stuart with her poetry installation ‘’Here To Listen’’. Toni works in complete silence, while inviting members of the public to speak to her. After the exchange, she writes a poem. It’s beautiful, mostly driven by Toni’s disposition and ability to look, see and validate a person without even having to say a word to them. It’s made me reflect a lot about permission and what that means, what happens when we let people tell their stories without any response or judgement…..


People are wonderful, pattern making creatures. All hummed, all paused, all questioned - Can I really speak to you right now? Without you speaking back? All took a moment, then eventually shared on such an authentic level. Stories about lost watches, growing up in Pakistan, dreaming about being a squirrel, awkward train journeys - lost love. It's an exercise that transcends poetry, and feels like a method of breaking the misery which pervades London (sometimes).

I wander what would happen if half the capital fell silent while the other spoke, how therapeutic that could feel. I wander what could be said if the right space was allowed.

What really struck me about this experience is how I slowly found power in listening to the noises around me, the hypnotic rise and fall of Leicester Square outside, the polite conversations at tables nearby, and the countless newspapers shuffling. How comforting these noises were, although almost distracting. In the process I am essentially there to act as the facilitator and communicate for Toni, so retreating into my own version of silence is probably not (overall) useful to the process. I'm grateful for Toni for allowing me this experience, in awe of how consistently strong each poem is, and urge you to check out her work. Her stories breathe life.



Here is a poem I wrote while in the space.

Journey to Wellness

I like to think I had a grasp on my body pretty well; I thought I knew how it reacts, what it needed, and that I could look after it flawlessly - I didn't understand why it would become sluggish and tired join the day, why my immune system was failing me often, and all round I was feeling less like a human and more like a flower left to wilt on the side of someone's desk.

The truth is, I don't look after my body.

I treat it very harshly - I don't get enough sleep, I fill it with food it doesn't physically need or really want, I often abuse it out of self hatred for my self.

As an overweight person and someone with a mental health disorder, my existence is slightly taboo:  According to the media, (and most people I know), I should be doing everything in my power to change  these things about my self. There's an evilness to these notions of 'fatness', 'sickness.' nut this attitude doesn't change people, it makes them worse. When folks internalize shame about who they are, they see their mind and body as something that will trap them - it will never be what it should be, it should shrink, disappear, be 'normal' (whatever that is or looks like). It leads to a cycle where you become so besotted with the idea of inadequacy, the ability to be visible becomes impossible.

And what  I'm telling you now is: you deserve to be visible. You deserve to exist, take up space, to see your body and mind as wonderful - whoever you are. Take your self on a journey to Wellness, to viewing your world as something that can benefit you rather than destroy you.

For me, this translates to a consistent vegan diet. I'm not a professional nutritionist, and I don't think this diet is accessible to everyone, but I have lots of reasons why I do it: stamping out animal cruelty, health benefits, it's fun and creative -  and most importantly, I take care of my self a lot more. Just giving a google to all the health benefits to different fruit and vegetables I eat is an empowering  experience, it allows you to understand your body functions a lot more, how you can let it fly in the best possible way.

Some Days Are Worse Then Others

It's currently two am and I am sitting in my university room, less then a week until I move out. As I start to take down my posters and clean out my belongings, I'm noticing the little scratches on the walls and eyeliner splashes across my mirror and sink basin. I find it funny, and also oddly beautiful, how a room can reflect the body; with all it's lumps and scars and stories written all over it. Then I think of my security deposit and it's certainly less beautiful..and how I'm supposed to make it look like I never lived here after all.

The pretentious kid inside of me want to leave a note between the crooks of my mattress, V for Vendetta style, but I doubt the next oblivious kid to inhabit the room will either A) be able to find it, B) care even if they did and C), it's not like I have anything profound to say anyway.

Looking at my 14/15 year old self, I think we have a lot of differences and similarities.  I'm still overly sentimental, I still find change difficult, but I also am much more adventurous, and much more equipped to deal with my fears.  Some days are worse then others,  some things suck more then others, some things are ridiculously scary - this is the case for the rest of your life. Over time you're going to find new ways deal with things, you're going to find self agency, and self believe. You're not always going to be that scared teenager who feels ridiculously lost in the world. 

London (Where The Clouds Never Go Away)

You know the friend who you see in your phone contacts, or on your Facebook list of friends, and you think: ''Man, I really need to catch up with them at some point.''

Well.

This blog is certainly that friend.

I have been meaning to write a blog post for a while but my university work and general life madness has stopped me. Also, I guess it's hard to digest everything that has been happening over the past months...Let alone write a post about it.

Time is weird - it seems to raise and fall when you least expect it. When you don't want to be in a place, time seems to be endless, and when you are happy - or at least productive and busy - time slips away endlessly.

Moving to University has seem to move so quick, already I am about to begin my second term. 

One of the best things about moving to Univeristy and out of your house is that you really get to know yourself, you learn how to maintain your well being on your own account, and you get to know your passions, flaws,  and tendencies so much better then when you were younger.

Something I am more steadily aware of is my need to document things. Living in London, there is a constant wave of chaos around you - and I am constantly thinking of how I can remember my life here, whether it be writing it down, taking a less then impressive photo on my little nokia phone which resembles a brick, or just letting my senses explore the present - Being in the capital city is so incredibly strange but wonderful.

Between The Pages Of A Book

I got tagged on Tumblr to talk about books that have touched me, and I thought I'd post here aswell.

1. A Quiet Belief In Angels - R.J Ellory. This book is actually a crime/mystery novel, but reads more like a classic. The prose in this book is absolutely incredible, and the way the author handles themes like mortality, death, and the ways in which your childhood can shape your identity is just fantastic. 
2. The Book Thief - Markus Zusak. This book speaks for its self. If you haven’t read it already, I  really suggest you do - a book has never, ever touched me as much as this one. Based in Nazi Germany it follows the tale of a girl named Liesel and is narrated by Death himself.
3. Freak The Mighty - Rodman Philbrick. I never realized when I was younger that this book was actually really popular before I started speaking about it  to people now, but this book had a really profound effect on me as a child.
4. Life After God - Douglas Coupland. The concept behind this book is very, very cool and Coupland has a very distinct writing style which just stays with you. It’s a series of short stories which details a society that is post-religion. 
5. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou. This is a book I really want to read again so I understand the true weight of it; because it’s  such an important read. Maya Angelou is one of the best writers in history and her autobiography brings to light  critical thinking  around race and identity, but in such an eloquent and hopeful way. 
6. The Knife Of Never Letting Go - Patrick Ness. I actually only read this last year but my god, this is so beautiful and emotional. I can’t wait to read the rest of his series.
7. The Yellow World - Albert Espinosa.  This book is really personal - but also very, very thoughtful and reflective. It’s super interesting in the way he structures it, too.
8. The Perks Of Being A Wallflower - Stephen Chbosky. Shock of the century right? No but seriously, this is like the first YA book i feel I was properly exposed to and it will always stay with me. I read it  at a time when I was fourteen and very alone and the concept of  being the ‘wallflower’ kept me going. 
9. The Looking Glass Wars - Frank Beddor. This was my favourite book growing up and remains very, very dear to me. Probably  is actually lame if I ever re-read it.
10. I Am An Emotional Creature - Eve Ensler. Eve is such a fantastic writer who understands the female identity, really, really well. 

HONORARY MENTIONS: Margeret Atwood  always touches the soul because she is the best, best best author ever and I love her to pieces and Kazuo Ishiguro for Never Let Me Go.

The Lines Within Story-telling

So J.K Rowling has discussed how she wished Harry and Hermoine had become a couple at the end of the Harry Potter series, and while this has ignited a debate abut whether people agree with that, it's also definitely making people think about the author/reader relationship.

And while everyone is on the topic of the readers having ownership over the narrative: (even though the idea of Hermoine and Harry makes me grumpy) I do fully believe that readers can contest ideas which are ‘cannon’ by authors; that they can criticize, re-imagine, interpret, and believe whatever they want.

 But I don’t believe that the authorial intent can be expanded on once the story is over. I love J.K and she has full right to reflect on her writing decisions, (as all authors do at the end of the day), but I don’t like the idea that once an author makes a claim after the book has been published, that every reader has to agree and believe that - because that claim is suddenly part of the narrative. It isn’t. Just like Dumbledore’s ‘supposed’ representation of homosexuality, it fails to be supported because it just felt like something J.K added in to make her seem ‘headline’ news worthy. Obviously a character representing the lgbt*q community’s plot should never just solely rely around that fact, (a character should not solely be written for queer representation, it should be fully fleshed out and complex like every other character) there is just no real evidence in the text to support it all.

And I think that's what's disappointing. If things aren't valid enough, they become really hard to believe.

I don't really think there is a clear cut answer to this debate, I think it's always a personal stance: But I do think my opinion is that if J.K wanted to write Harry and Hermoine, she probably should have,

Loose Ends

I am not a self proclaimed perfectionist, but I do not like having Loose Ends in my life.

Something I have grown steadily more aware of  recently is my ''obsessive'' tendencies when it comes to trying to get things done. I've noticed that once I fret over a thing so incredibly much, the thing literally becomes kind of impossible to do. Like, I always find myself setting targets throughout the day, and if I do not achieve those targets, I really don't feel accomplished - and this will still happen even if the day I just had was super productive. That just won't matter. If I had to ''print out a sheet'' and I didn't print out the sheet, my mind will go fricking ape shit . If I decided to climb a mountain that day and achieved it, my brain will still think ''You did not print out that sheet and you promised yourself you would! YOU'RE A LIAR!''

Let me explain what a Loose End is: It's the feeling of when you are wrapped up in a warm bed and you need to pee, and you know you should have gone before you wrapped up warm, but now you are just laid there ignoring it and your bladder is literally about to explode (Great metaphor there Lucy, you can totally tell you are a Nanowrimo participant). You think you are safe and you can relax - but something else looming over you in your brain's to do list jumps out at you, and you  just won't feel okay again until you tie up that Loose End.

So what's the huge moral behind this weird anxiety which makes you a perfectionist that doesn't really strive  for perfection? To be honest, I don't think there is one. If the human brain was a person, I would not like it to sit next to me on public transport.