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The Pseudo-Biological Clock

I am 22 years old. Naturally this is the average age of my closest friends, the people I have grown up and gone to school with. The early twenties. I went to a girls school for most of my life and even after school I have found that among my close circle of friends, there are more girls than boys.

Let’s talk about the biological clock now. Is it something that women actually feel? Or is it a social construct that tells a woman it is about time she took up her role as wife and possibly mother because looking around all her peers seem to be doing it? Or is it a manifestation of the advanced neurological development characteristic of girls? Or is the fact that women have so much pressure put upon them to be in control of everything and take care of everyone while the men kinda just need to show up?

The Life-Cycle of a Crush

A few days or weeks or months or years ago, I shall not give an exact time-line for obvious reasons, a crush I had hurt my feelings in a manner that at the time seemed unforgivable to me. I sat down and wondered why in the world does this person have the power to hurt me so much? Really, a crush?

Let us start by defining a crush, I consulted Google and here is what came up…

noun
informal
a brief but intense infatuation for someone, especially someone unattainable or inappropriate.

Emojis R US!

I love emojis!

I remember one time writing a Whatsapp message on a friend’s phone and when I clicked on the emojis icon, was shocked to find that he had only 3 or 4 emojis appearing under his frequently used tab. I cannot understand this! How does one express oneself effectively via text if not by the use of emojis?
I can scarce complete a line of text without feeling like it could use a facial expression to go with it, to make it as close as possible to a conversation is my argument. (Also, I just fancy colour and animation.)

What is the Opposite of Writer’s Block?

Reader’s unblock?

I know, I know, bad joke. Moving on swiftly…

I am occasionally very emotionally charged. This happens often.
What does not happen often, is me deciding to channel it into writing.

I prefer to eat junk food, cry into my pillow, scroll through Instagram for hours and hours, start conversations with people I have not spoken to in a while, lose myself in the worm hole that is YouTube, take a nap…you get the idea. Never anything too constructive.

A Mother’s Perspective

My mother is the sweetest heart on this planet…I kid you not!

That being said…she has always had some reservations about me driving. I’m not entirely sure why. I did not go to driving school right after high school, as most people do, to fill in the months between high school and university. I went after my first year of university. Even then, I can still recall the conversation I had with my mother when I asked her if she would pay for driving school, it went a little like this…

Kathleen: Mum, do you think that this holiday you could pay for driving school so that I finally learn how to drive?

Mummy: Driving school? Are you buying a car soon?

**Le sigh**

Why I Hate Happy Endings in Movies (The disillusionment of Kathleen)

I hate cliché happy endings. They are insincere. They lie to us. They put us in a false state of mind, a false sense of security that life is fair. They are an inaccurate representation of life.

Clearly I have issues…no?

Here’s my attempt at psycho-analysing myself.
I am a hopeless romantic. Notice the present tense, yes, I still am, even post-disillusionment.

Food! Now! …and make it picture-worthy, pronto!

**I hate lining up for food.

I have zero pleasant memories of lining up for food, does anyone? Probably because I’m normally low on sugar at the time and let me tell you, I get very irritable when I am low on sugar. I always find myself getting lost in my thoughts, my hungry thoughts! Keeping in mind I have a very strong sense of justice(or at least I like to think I do…), my thoughts normally go something like this…**

Drink and Drive?

Shall you keep silent as we are driven to our deaths?

You have a driving licence, yet you sit still and let yourself be driven by a drunk driver?

Does the fact that he is your husband make him any less drunk?

Make you any less likely to end up in a ditch bleeding out,

your whole family right beside you…