make up

My, my, make- up is deceptive. I found a quote somewhere which simply stated, ' women lie every time they put on make-up.' that isn't an exaggeration. After all, isn't make-up a face on top of one's face?

I don't mean an eyeliner and blusher; I mean the whole 'sha-bang', the transformed, 'you look like someone else' one. 

I watched a video on YouTube, where the woman had extreme acne and as a result had scarred face.

After she finished applying the make-up she looked so different! As if she never had spotty face.  I know that make-up is supposed to enhance your beauty but most of the time it gives you features and flawless skin that you don’t possess. That is just deception in my eyes. It makes an average looking person so exquisite and the pretty person extremely beautiful. You can contour your face, giving yourself cheek bones and slender face.

I find myself conflicted when it comes to make-up because whenever I have it on I feel as though it’s not me and that I am deceiving people. When people compliment me with my make-up I dismiss it, as they haven’t seen my face without it.  I also think that make- up is designed to give us low self esteem. Most people who regularly wear make-up feel ugly without it. As a consequence feel very insecure. I personally think foundation messes up your face, leaving you with discolouration and uneven skin tone, well on ethnic skin anyway.

  

People are free to do whatever they want but everything has a consequence. Instead of spending so much money on make-up invest in making yourself feel better. Masking your insecurities won’t make it go away. As a dear friend always says to me your beauty is your own stop comparing yourself to other people. At the end of the day, you are you and no matter how much you admire and wish to look someone else it isn't going to happen. So be happy with what you have. Confidence and contentment makes one beautiful.

so cold

I was at a bus stop waiting for the bus, when a homeless guy approached me with the ever expected question, '"can you spare some change, please?"
i replied, "no I don't have any money." He looked at me with disbelief as if I was mocking him and said slightly angrily, " that's what you people always say!" I stood up as my bus arrived and I said ".. that's because you guys spend it on alcohol and drugs."
He grew defensive and got in my face and replied, "no I'm not drunk. I just want a 50p drink."
" you look very drunk to me." I responded, taking couple steps back as he got aggressive.
" I'm sorry, I don't have any money. I swear to God." I quickly said as I got on the bus.
He shouted, "remember you swore by God!" I felt so guilty because I didn't any money except loose change which was less than 50p. I contemplated on getting of the bus and giving him that little change, as I felt I was harsh and judgmental. There was no need to add insult to the injury.


I don't know his predicament and what he went through, therefore, I had no right to have said what I said. A friend of mine who works with mentally ill people, told me that many homeless people  have mental illness. It is a cold world, and it is us people who have made it bitterly cold.

shame on me. I thought I was better than that.

May Allah forgive me for being ungrateful and may Allah shelter the homeless on these cold nights. My heart goes out to the homeless, especially on these freezing, winter nights.

temporary amnesia

Don't contribute to the injustice that you cry ocean of tears which could flood the world. You cry because of the injustice that you suffered by the hands of people, but quick to forget now that it is you doing it. Is the person crying the same tears which you once thought would never cease? quick to forget when you inflict the  same crooked injustice on someone else. Or is that you seek twisted revenge on someone who never hurt you because you had to suffer, therefore ,why should others be spared? 

If someone did something to you which hurt you and warranted a complain, then mind you don't do the same to someone else. If someone didn't save you from that injustice, don't hesitate to save that person who needs you.

Be kind. There are too many selfish people in the world so that Allah the most high may have mercy upon our souls.

It has been a long time

I haven't blogged for a while and there is no particular reason for it just felt like being antisocial. I was on Twitter, Blackberry Messenger; it daunted on me that I like a bit of mystery so I deactivated my twitter and went off Blackberry Messenger. there seems to be this culture of sharing everything whether its Facebook or Twitter encouraging one to say what it's on their mind without thinking about  being conscious of what's being said. I believe it is not wise to say everything that comes to ones mind and sometimes somethings are best left unsaid.

 I have observed that people say outrageous statements that are are highly offensive especially on Twitter. there is bullying and racism that people seem to laugh about on Twitter. People wouldn't say these comments face to face generally nor would it be tolerated so why on the internet?

The past

Sometimes it is easy to get caught up in the past so much that it consumes and leaves no room for development and progression.  It is a cliché; however, the past belongs in the past.  I seem to find myself locked in the past. No matter how much I regret and sorrow I feel will not change things.  I know it was decreed for me by the most High, Allah; however, this only gives me comfort regarding things I had no control of.  However, choices I made and the lack of actions from my side is something I can’t seem to put it behind me. So much regret yet one would think I have learnt not to make the same mistakes.

I cannot keep shifting the blame on others now that I am adult. The choices I make now are no one’s but mine. The past is supposed to make one stronger and determined not to leave one so caught up it is hard to see past the past.

I hope that this year I truly grow up and concentrate on the present.

family

I run into my cousin today and though we live in the same city we haven’t seen each in months. We used to be close when we were younger; she would come to London from Holland for the holidays. I simply adored her company; she was always fun, full of energy and life. It’s weird how things turn out. After a long embrace, we went back to another cousin of ours which she stays as its closer to her work placement. As I entered the house and greeted the family, an overwhelming sadness came over me. I felt like I have missed out as I am slightly distance when it comes to my family. The thing about my family is that though I love them and I don’t like most of them, and there are lots of them. I don’t think I know anyone who has as much as I do. As a consequence they don’t like each other much and hardly see each other. I would love it if we had more of a relationship. Seeing my beautiful cousin just made me miserable as it reminded of my dysfunctional relationship with my family. Family is of paramount importance as lack of it leaves a hole in a person. I know it’s an over exhausted cliché however friends come and go but family don’t so it’s important to try with them even if it’s just you doing all the work.

I bid her farewell determined that I would try in the future with them inshaa Allah.

My father, may Allah have mercy on him…

Memories of him are not as vivid as they once were. As the years go by which are preordained as his death, I am struggling to remember how he looked, but if memory serves me correct I don’t recall ever remembering his handsome  face (he must have been handsome otherwise where did I get my looks from?).  What I do recollect of his appearance is that he was tall, slim build and had very soft, thick hair. My father was merciful, quiet, easy going and a peace lover. One memory that is imprinted in my heart is him coming home from his other wife and me outrunning my siblings to greet him as he always brought us something. I still recall how he mercifully embraced me and carried me on his arms to the house. I remember missing him so much that I didn’t leave his side until I couldn’t keep my eyes open from sleepiness. I remember uncontrollable tears flowing from my mother’s eyes when she heard my father had been in a car accident. I remember her rushing to Mogadishu to be with him and leaving us in the care of my oldest sister Fatima. The next thing I remember is hearing my father is dead and running as fast as my little legs can carry me in the vast land of greenery that surrounded our hut. I remember everyone crying especially Fatima saying ‘my father! My father! Oh I’m an orphan!’ putting her hands on her head bewilderedly, my mother, telling her not to be silly, as she’s too old to be considered as an orphan. However, I don’t recall myself crying even though I loved him as much as the others if not more. It was only years later that I grieved for his death; i used to look out the window every Sunday and cry until my eyes could no longer produce tears, and my eyes hollow with grief. I can’t entertain why I did that peculiar behaviour but I know that it was wrong.  Fifteen years has passed and I still think about my merciful father. I loved my father and I still do very much, however, I am pleased with whatever my Lord, the most High, decrees for me.Everyone shall taste death irrespective of age,colour, religion, male, female, granted.  I ask Allaah subhana wa t£ala, the most Merciful to grant him jannah and forgive his sins, Allahumma aameen.