Day 1

Thursday, July 9, 2020

So here it goes. This is my first time unraveling in front of an audience. Do I have a set direction of where to take this blog? Most definitely not! However, what I would like to achieve with this is to share my life experiences so it may help touch a few of you while also guiding you along. This is for you just as much as it is for me, and I am not afraid to hear what you may have to say. 
    I am not terribly old, though I will not disclose my exact age, I feel I have definitely lived through enough. Hurdles. There has been an excessive amount of hurdles in life so far. The hoops have had rings of fire and sometimes teeth, yet here I stand. I continue. And boy, do they love to keep coming. I am still not through some of the scariest ones. This affects all aspects of life, my dear readers. Which is why I will address everything here that comes or passes? 

    So this is what we will talk about here: life, love, career, fashion, music, and pretty much whatever else comes into my head. What I will focus on though is how culture and religion fit into all this as well. This part is important. I was born in Pakistan, grew up in Canada, and now I am transitioning to move to the USA. I am a woman. As you may tell, this will also be my travel diary because yes, I have been here and there. 

And so, with this introduction, let me take a deep breath and begin my musings.

It is embarrassing to admit that after watching "Jane the Virgin" on Netflix, I have transported myself here because Jane made me want to write again. I miss the act of pouring one's thoughts onto paper, whether virtual or literal. Although the advantage of typing is that I can keep up with the overflowing thoughts easier than writing, in which the thoughts flow so fast I end up with cramped fingers by the end of a night. There is always a fear that someone will read my thoughts and my life will turn into living hell through the humiliation I will face at the reader's hands. This used to be my parents who would snoop through any suspicious lined paper book hidden beside my stash of novels, which I was not supposed to read until I had completed my homework. The pain I have faced having my journals read without invitation led me to suppress the urge of ever writing anything down. In my world, secrecy means survival. In my culture, taboo topics are left unsaid, hidden, even when in plain sight. There is a lot to work through. 

    But perhaps, now that I am an adult, and not a child scared to take a wrong step in any direction, I can slowly start allowing myself to come undone here. I am in a secure enough place now to make this leap. Do I want others to read what I write? I believe I do. I am ready. 

   Until next time,

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