Hello, travellers.

This is my blog. Sometimes I write things in it. Sometimes I draw pictures too. Mostly these pictures are of an extremely high calibre and should really probably be showcased in The Louvre or something. I'm secretly just waiting for my artistic talents to be discovered.


I don't want to actively ask for comments, but I will casually drop the hint that they help, whether positive or constructively negative. The main reason for this is otherwise I feel like I'm just talking to a pile of dirt.

But I must be honest here: it's not all bad, talking to a pile of dirt. Sometimes I dress it up as you.

I've always had a secret fondness for your potato nose. When I was a kid I used to wish I had tubers growing out of various parts of my face, but that's another story.

The Correct Way To Save The World From Liars

Up until recently, I suffered from the dry scalp condition known as dandruff. This condition is widely known for increasing the physical attractiveness of those who suffer it – 

– dramatically . 

Now, I had no problems with this affliction and the accompanying boost in physical attractiveness it gave me.

But as I went about my day-to-day life, I began to notice something. 

When I went out in public: to school, to the shops, for a walk down the street, and even to the park – 

– everyone around me – 

– would stand well back from me and give me these horrified looks. It was kind of like they thought I had a contagious disease, or that there was something gross around my person or something. But then I figured it out.

They were jealous of me. 

Now, I consider myself a very selfless person, always putting others before myself and thinking of their wants and needs before my own.

And it was this selfishness which drove me to decide I needed to do something about my dandruff. It wasn’t fair to allow everyone around me to suffer extreme jealous whenever I was around simply because my already-dazzling beauty had been amplified tenfold by the flakes of dead skin covering my scalp. So I did the only thing I could do. I went to the supermarket. 

Scanning the rows of shampoos claiming to do a multitude of apparently-desirable things to one’s hair, such as smoothing and controlling frizzy or curly hair and boosting the shine and silkiness of your hair x10!, I began to feel increasingly depressed by the distinct lack of anti-dandruff shampoos on the shelves. But then I saw it.

It was a gift from God. It was Jesus calling me on his mobile phone in Heaven. It was a tiny miracle bestowed upon me by some serendipitous twist of fate. It was like my whole life had been leading up to this one moment, the singular most important event experienced by anyone in the history of ever.

Needless to say, I bought it.

That night, I could hardly wait to use my anti-dandruff shampoo for the first time. Finally, I would no longer have to bear the guilt of the jealousy I inflicted on people because of my undeniably gorgeous skin condition. The selflessness of it filled me with elation and freed my soul. As I washed my hair, the beautiful purple liquid on my scalp felt like the touch of the gods. I was so happy that I began singing timeless ballads as an expression of the joy I felt within.

The effect the shampoo had on my hair was immediate and undeniable.

I was astonished. Not only had the dandruff disappeared completely, but my hair was left lustrous, shiny, unaccountably smooth, and – weirdest of all – several inches longer than it had been prior to the wash. It really was a miracle.

After that first wash, I began to experience something phenomenal. No longer was I copping looks of intense jealously everywhere I went. No longer afflicted by the envy my skin condition caused them, people could see past my exterior to the person within. I began to be accepted by my peers, instead of outcast by my extreme beauty caused by the dandruff.

I handled this newfound feeling of social acceptance with grace, dignity, and most importantly, a modest nonchalance. 

But I came to realise that, if I wanted to keep my new-found social status, I would have to continue using the anti-dandruff shampoo. The instructions on the back of the packet told me that I had to use it every time I washed my hair for six weeks in order to obtain total relief from dandruff. Okay, my little voicemail from Jesus, I thought, I shalt do as thou commandeth unto me.

And so I did. 

Over the weeks, instead of removing and preventing dandruff as promised, the shampoo encouraged my dandruff to return – bigger and better than ever.

At the end of week six, something in me snapped.

I had been betrayed. I had been backstabbed. I had been subjected to completely unexpected, unnecessary, and unrelenting torture over six whole weeks. Something had broken inside me, and that something had unleashed a soul-demon hellbent on exacting revenge against the two-faced motherfucker of a shampoo that had scurrilously attacked my hair.

Thinking back, I suppose I should be glad no-one was around at the point that I snapped. Imagine if, say, you were peacefully strolling down the hall towards the bathroom, with nothing in mind but a warm, pleasant shower to wash away the sweat and exhaustion of your day. Then, upon reaching the bathroom, you are greeted by this sight:

Needless to say, I acted accordingly. I performed a series of vengeful acts upon that bottle of shampoo, each more violent than its predecessor. Fuelled by vengeance and a crazed thirst for blood, I was unflinchingly determined to torture the fuck out of that bottled-and-capped piece of blasphemy. 

Eventually, I came down from my vengeance-induced high and was left with a floaty calm feeling, as well as satisfaction that I had sufficiently delivered justice upon the thing that had destroyed my scalp. All was again right with the universe. The remains of the shampoo bottle were dealt with accordingly.

However, I still had one problem.

My hair was still riddled with dandruff.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I went back to the supermarket.

This time I regarded the products warily, and scrutinized labels for any hints of obvious lies. The tune I whistled was done so with violence and scepticism. I would ignore things like ‘completely rids your hair of even the faintest whispers of dandruff in just ten days!’ and look for something that seemed genuine and trustworthy. I examined every bottle meticulously.

Things were looking down, but I managed to stumble upon a brand of anti-dandruff shampoo that looked, upon inspection of the back label, decent enough. 

With hopes restored and optimism growing inside me, I took the bottle of shampoo up to the counter, purchased it, and skipped merrily out the door and down the street with my bag in hand, confident that nothing would stand in my way of getting rid of my dandruff again.

My Mother Said..

Today I came home from a day spent shopping for winter clothes with my grandmother. It should be noted that on outings of such description, my grandmother and I usually lunch on sushi. It should also be noted that two days ago my parents took me and my brother out for a celebratory lunch of Turkish kebabs. Tonight, over dinner, my mother and I discussed the outing. A transcript of the conversation follows:

Mother: So, did you have sushi for lunch?

Me: No.

Mother: Oh? What did you have, then?

Me: Turkish kebabs.

Mother: Did you tell [your grandmother] that you'd been out for turkish kebabs [at the same place] at the weekend?

Me: No..

Mother: Well, it is nommy.

Let's Pretend This Doesn't Actually Happen To Me That Often

Sometimes you have those days when you just feel shattered. You’ve had a long, hard week, done a lot of work, exhausted your mental capacities, and by the time the day crawls toward its end you’re just really, really tired.

You’re thinking about going to bed. Bed sounds nice, and it’s getting pretty damn late.

Besides, you have to be well-rested tonight, to keep up with all your plans for tomorrow and the wild social life you lead.

Your IM conversation with your boyfriend begins to look like this:

When you look around your room, your tiny sleep-deprived mind has been struggling so hard to stay conscious that it begins to hallucinate. 

After you manage to clear your head of the disturbing delusions caused by your mental exhaustion, you logically arrive at the conclusion that you need to sleep.

The only thing keeping you awake now is your glowing laptop screen. So you go to switch the laptop off, thinking you’ll be in bed in mere seconds.

 Disparaged and mentally broken, you drag your pathetic tired body to bed and lie there in the dark. But you can’t sleep, even though your mind and body are hopelessly begging for it.

You lie there in the dark, eyes wide open, staring at the blue glow of the computer screen which is reaching across the room to you and turning the surrounding darkness a weird blue-grey. 

You can’t be sure, but in your exhausted and tormented state, it very much seems that your laptop is mocking you.