It’s been four months into the year, and it somewhat feels like I’ve crossed miles, and accomplished a couple things that I set my mind to initially. In spite of that, I keep on thinking of what once was, and how it no longer is. “There really is no past that we can bring back by longing for it, but only a present that builds, and creates itself as the past withdraws.” – The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.
The past five months were quite something; a solid portrayal, of how badly I handle stress, pressure, and inevitable anxiety – I’m such millennial, I know. Please bear in mind, that I didn’t have avocado toast within my hands, so it was quite a challenge.
It surely has been a minute, and it’s fair to say, that life’s been taking its toll on everyone, in every single way, and by any means possible. If you can relate, that’s comfortable to hear, as you weren’t the only one in the boat.
The Khaleeji Expat – A podcast that seeks to explore various aspects of life in the Gulf. Be it matters that are within the scope of social media and its effects, Identity, lifestyle, or fashion, Georgie Bradely and her guests elaborate on such things with an intelligent, and lighthearted manner.
Old habits surely die hard, but when it comes to music, such habits or beats in this case remain for a lifetime, or just until the hype’s over at least (shrugs).
It features not one, but two, pro-LBTQ+ covers. It’s photographed by the iconic duo Mert and Marcus, and it follows the example set by the late, renowned, Franca Sozzani; if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m talking about Italian Vogue’s September Covers.
God bless these 20 somethings I say, when I’ve barely learned its lessons; besides the lessons of heart break, and the process of learning who I am, and what I stand for – which is something I thought I already knew, but I guess I was just naïve – clearly.
I write you a story, but it loses it’s thread – just like how Andrew Birds verse is going to. It’s quite literal when they say how one song can usher an abundant amount of memories, and Pulaski At Night surely did.
As I dust of my keyboard, crack my knuckles, and plug in my headphones, I realize how long of a while it’s been since i’ve last worked on content – I regret how I allowed it to happen, but all that falls, must rise again – so here’s hoping…
It’s very much a masochist cycle of reconstructing the foundation, and then deconstructing it to mere gravel. The tint on these rose colored glasses have faded, and the vivid images, and recollections of past occurrences have been groundedly invasive.