*Twilight zone music*

Ever get the feeling you're being...watched?

So I just had a moment when...

I was reading through something I wrote...
...trying my best to remain objective and fish out all the errors...
...and everything I read (which I had written before, a long time ago) was happening to me, in real life, now. Even down to the nail biting...
So...weird.

I was on holiday.

Beautiful, ain't it? It's better in real life...

Before I drift off and wish I was back there, let me make a couple of announcements.

That exam I was suffering over and moaning about a few posts ago...well, I recieved the results and I passed! (Woo!)

No more study! (Double woo!) But it does mean I have to start looking for a proper job...(Poo!)

Until then, I will be trying to write. A little Bit of Seasoning is more than a oneshot and will be updated but I'll be a little slow in updating...(You've read all that and you're thinking 'what the hell else do you have to do, woman?' and let me tell you...a lot. A. Lot.)

Scarfy 3...keeps on getting more and more ideas and notes added to it. (Now it's all big and complicated and scary to write.) Patience never killed anyone....right? *dodges punches*

How are you?

Hello!

So...I have a new story up.



http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2958155/1/A_Little_Bit_of_Seasoning


Check it out....let me know what you think.

It's a little different to Scarfy...am a little nervous about it.


And Reviews = Indescribable joy

A moment of madness.

During the last day of revision...I actually lost my mind.

There I was, answering past papers, speaking out loud to myself in an accent that was not my own. Not that odd, right?

Wrong.

I was having a full conversation...posh accent when answering questions and cockney when checking the answers. And then when I got an answer wrong, I'd switch back to the question paper to see where I'd gone wrong and I'd revert back to posh.

Then...once I became comfortable with the two accents plus my own, I added some more. Aussie, German, French...madness, I tell you, madness!

Anyway...exam is over. I will be working on pumping some writing out for us all. (I can only assume that i forced myself not to write at all for the past few weeks and it came out as voices. So, even if my writing is pants, its for my own health. Officially.)

Hello, by the way, hello to all!

The Four Stages of Revision

Autumn is here!
If spring is something I sing and dance about then autumn is something else entirely. I love the autumn!
And, it only just occurred to me that it was here a couple of days ago, after summer came and went with no real presence, and I saw reddish leaves on the ground.
Leaves are falling, HOORAH!

I like the colours, the crunch, the weather and the cool clothes it leads you to wear. (I like layers. Layers with a hijab don’t work except in autumn and spring – at least it doesn’t work with me.)

So, anyway, this post isn’t purely about me going on and on about the time of year (though I could).

I’ve got an exam in a couple of weeks. Now, imagine the biggest exam of your life. Bigger than GCSE’s, bigger than A-levels, bigger than the tons of evil exams at Uni.
My exam is big.
An exam so big it puts into perspective the last ten years of working your butt off on all the previously mentioned stages and that scoffs at the flimsy piece of paper with your degree etched on it and says ‘go on, cry. Make. My. Day’.
I need your help. Please, please, please pray for me.
*closes eyes solemnly*
I need it.

I’ve already passed through the four stages of revision:
Stage one: “Please! I have so got this in the bag!”
Stage two: “So...I may have made a slight underestimation. Time to get seri- ooh, celebrity gossip blog.”
Stage three: “It’s impossible to go on. I give up. I’m realistic. I’ll marry a rich man instead.”
Stage four: “Oh my God, why? Why did I procrastinate? Why?”

Sigh.

Think of me, friends, as I lay buried under a pile of paperwork, hacking and jolting my way through them, clobbering and combating through to breath oxygen. My eyes! Think of my eyes that have had to read size 6 font or something equally ridiculous. Think of me as I desperately try to keep away from all the lovely and distracting things on the internet...

One talent...

...I wish I knew how to draw...

Ramadan Mubarak!

Hello all!

Ramadan kareem!
How are you all finding the fasting?

Getting into the spirit of things? Family gatherings, reading Quran, being kind to others.

Man, I'm finding it hard. Doesn't stop me trying but my mind has a will of its own, seriously.

Anyway, I've got a little bit of news.

There will be a Scarfy offshoot called Test: The Saqr Chronicles.

Will be published over the next month, inshallah, and its basically a series of one-shots from the Scarfy lot's life lessons and the such.

Here's a teaser from Sami's part:

The women mutter amongst themselves in differing opinions. I see my mother,
on the other side of the living room, stand a little straighter, glare at one
particular woman and her comment that I wish I can hear. Mama then looks up at
Lee with a strange look, sort of like pride but also like she was afraid of
her.
Very peculiar and slightly psychotic but, again, I thank Allah he made
me a man and much less complicated.

So....it doesn't reveal very much but that is 'cause I'm feeling suspensful.

My favourite feeling in the world..

..is when I wake up early, read in bed until its almost time to get ready for work.
I read a little bit more until I'm going to be late for work.
I stretch in bed, smiling gleefully at that feeling of excitement and suspense for having paused what I'm reading, not actually caring how late I'm going to be.
Priceless.

Ballet Pumps in a Mosh Pit.

Not as much a 'no' as you might think.

Take my word for it.

But, a crisp white headscarf on the other hand...expect a few stares of bewilderment.

Thursday – a day that is infinitely better than any birthday I’ve had, better than my graduation, better than payday. I went to the Kings of Leon concert in Hyde Park, London.

One word - awesome.

It's something I've always wanted to do - KOL for God's sake! - I got squashed, my back started hurting from standing up, I had to squeeze around tall people that tried to stand in front of me and tip toe from time to time but, oh yes, it was absolutely worth every penny. Most definitely worth every minute spent standing amongst randomers, smiling patiently while they took in the fact a Scarfy was amongst them. It was even worth the hours wasted listening to the supporting acts (except the Zec Brown Band 'cause they were cool!).
I got hit on the head with an inflatable ball.
I shared my umbrella with my friends and some random girls while it rained.They played my favourite songs. Sigh. Discovered that a scarf isn't so practicle when being pushed in every possible direction.
Singing with thousands of people at the top of your voice is incomparable. Best. Day. Ever!

Spread the Love

I have, after much thought, decided that there is too much hate in the world. Really. Too much.

How many times a day do you say "I hate..."?
I say it too much, even if I don't really mean it.

So, in my quest to change the world...I'm putting a stop to hate in all its forms and the negativity within. At least, I'll try and stop it one smile at a time.

Happiness all around. Love and joy, butterflies and daisies.

Thank you.
Love Lily.
(No, I'm not turning into a hippy.)

Interpret how you wish...

Some deep thoughts and too many questioning doubts

Something’s happened. It would be too long and too pointless to explain what, but imagine a long timeline and for the past 10 years the same event has been replaying with different people and at different ages, but pretty much the same deal. A film scene on loop – and it’s not a happy scene. It’s that scene in the middle of the film where your heart splutters a little and you actually question if there will be a happy ending at all.
Things happened every single day to every single person out of the six billion odd in the world. It seems improbable that they all mean something. But I’m a firm believer that they do. If there is no meaning behind something then why does it exist? Everything has a role, a purpose and things happen, for a reason, right?
So, me being me, I spend way too much time trying to makes sense of why and how these ‘things’ occur. I know that most of the time it’s not the “thing” that’s important but that it happened. The event, the feelings and emotions, actions and consequences, is what is important.
I question past events, wonder if it’s because of some butterfly effect or atonement of sins that we go through anything at all. Why life is constantly changing, why happiness is almost always marred by sadness and why great memories are eclipsed because they are shared by someone you no longer wish to remember.
I think about the future and what this “thing” means for it. Is it important? Like a turning point in life, an occurrence that will shape me and the people connected with it into the people we will be in five, ten, fifteen years time. Or is it something that I’ll hardly remember, something that drowned in the Sea of Rough Situations that holds no weight in future life?
Yes, I believe we are being examined on our behaviour, our thoughts and deeds in relation to strife – the ultimate question; do we fall to our knees and wail “why, God, why?’ and ultimately fail or do we suck it up and take it? But there is more than just saying “it’s for good reason”, do we truly believe it?
What are the good reasons? Is it to learn something about people, about ourselves, to become closer to the right path, to God? Is it so that we remember to be thankful for all the blessing we do have but don’t really consider; our ability to see, to hear, to touch? What about our ability to think, to even have intelligence for internal dialogue, and the ability to be free, educated and sensible enough to reflect? Are these not gifts and blessing enough that strengthen us through the wave of strife?
Sadly, as a human, I conclude no. It should be, but be honest, it never is.
So what are the good reasons for having dreams swept away and plans broken?
I wonder if it’s as simple as a way of strengthening ourselves, Allah’s tests, yes, but on a deeper level than “our faith is being tested”. Maybe we are being tested in more than faith, but in strength of will and purpose. Maybe we’re being prepped for bigger events. For example, the first time we’re hit with bad luck/news/experience we hurt badly but we get up again. The second time, we hurt, reopen old wounds, berate ourselves, and get up again. The third time, the blow is stronger, it causes internal damage but we mask the bruises until they fade – we tell ourselves ‘they don’t really hurt’. It goes on until eventually we reach the nth time and we go “Hehe, that tickled” and get up and get on with it.
That’s a good way of thinking, isn’t it? Ultimately, you reach a point where you’re almost invincible, made of reinforced steel that even Kryptonite can’t penetrate and weaken. It’s like...you’re strolling and the hardships hit you like blossoms off spring trees. The ultimate state of being; content and with unbreakable faith – life is good, life is in a constant state of sunshine.
But then the pessimist in me gets carried away with devilish thoughts (I’m ashamed to admit this) and wonders why I constantly have to watch this crumbling of “good life” before me, even if it doesn’t hurt anymore. You deal with enough crap you become immune to the smell, even donkey’s follow that logic. I thought I’d become immune, even if sometimes I felt like I’ve played a role in the destruction of something that I’d hoped would survive, I did not succumb to the crippling guilt. All for a good reason, remember?
I thought if a lorry full of angst and problems parked outside my house I wouldn’t bat an eyelid.
However, I’ve discovered today that I’m not protected – I’ve not reached the “tickled” point, or at least I’ve deviated away from it again, back down to normal, insecure, unhappy human. People say that watching from the sidelines is better than having to personally crumble in the spotlight but that isn’t to say that I don’t get chipped too. Who’s to say that being able to do nothing at all while you watch someone pull a trigger isn’t as hard as pulling it yourself? If not harder.
I thought I’d come to terms with being an onlooker, I’m certain I will be for some time yet if not for the rest of my life, but being unable to say or do anything is really hard, especially when I’m able to control the urges to speak up. Especially when all I want is to shake some sense into someone close but I know even one step closer would tip the scales in unfavourable directions.
But add to that, a little bit of my own experience and a grave mistake - I dared to hope.
Hope is empowering but it’s also misguided. It’s much better to take each day as it comes, accept it for what it is, accept that it may never be different, not really. Isn’t it safer that way than to always wait for something to come along and pluck you away from it all? What if that never happens? What if that is the ultimate test, for a purpose I’m sure to spend many more hours pondering?
At the end of all this questioning, this ...whatever you want to call it, I ask myself one last question and it has nothing to do with my faith, with tests or with God; Why is the person I’m so worried about, so hurt over, not even bothered herself?

And more than catastrophic events ever could, that hurts, knowing selfishness is well and truly alive and thriving. Where’s the lesson in that?

I'm in the mood for...

...daydreaming about romance, love, happiness and all sorts of pleasant things. I have a strong suspicion it is to do with a number of things that have happened this week: 1- The weather has been gorgeous. Sun, blue skies, wonderful cooling breeze to break the early summer-like warmth. How can anyone ignore the urge to smile in such circumstances? 2- A colleague that is particularly energy-draining has gone on holiday for a few weeks giving me much needed rest from incessant maddening chatter. *Silence* Sigh. Life is good. 3- I met up with friends that made me feel 18 again. (It’s been a while). It was a special night; loads of laughter, good food, and that feeling inside that all life’s struggle is nothing as long as there are God given moments like that. I say that simply because no one else could have pulled off such a perfect time with so little effort on all our parts. That feeling of things “clicking” into place is a little like reaching Fate’s milestones, grabbing a cool bottle of water and getting energised to continue the race. Now, back on the subject of love, I came across this quote: The Prophet Muhammed (pbuh) said:

“Woman was created from a bent rib. If you want to enjoy her, you enjoy her while she is still bent. If you will try to straighten her, you will break her.”

[Sahih Al-Bukhari, Sahih Muslim]

How perfect is that? I wished it was better known amongst my friends and people my age, so this is me doing my bit to spread it. Another little poem by an unknown author, I stumbled it across it and loved it.

“A woman came out of the rib of man,

not his feet to be walked on,

nor his head to be superior over;

she came from his side to be his companion,

under his arm to be protected,

and next to his heart to be loved.”

Doesn't that just make you want to stand on a sunny roof and sing to the world?

I wont. I'm seriously tone-deaf. But it makes me want to.

Spread the love, people.

Read this!

Hello all! How's everybody going? I try not to recommend books to people unless I know them well enough to know what they like, however, I am recommending The Traveller by John Twelve Hawks to everybody because I think its excellent and worthwhile to read for everybody who lives in this century, owns and uses a computer and trails the net. Its got an important message, a wicked story and I hope you do pick it up at your library or bookshop. Trust me on this one. Also....a new bunch of poems! I actually found these ones in my notebook I use to write useful work-related information on. I can't remember when I wrote it but it was in autumn some time (another brilliant season). Obviously, my work notebook's been defiled by my imagination...I have to get rid of the evidence and share it. :P

Wooden Flower

I'd give you a dream if I could,

Or a pretty flower made of wood;

So that it cannot wither or make you cry,

So that you never have to say goodbye.

Haiku

Of life, of love and of loss,

What do we all really know?

We can speculate,

But we'll emulate,

Our parents, our friends and foes.

Feel, Be, Love Me

Pink, red, pink, blune,

These are the colours that remind me of you.

Laugh, cry, shout, smile,

A rainbow of emotions in every style.

Guess, know, order, beg,

I never know where to stand, on which leg.

Give, take, give, take,

I'd do anything for your sake.

Love, hate, need, space,

Oh, the changing sides to your face.

Now, time for your comments and my sunday breakfast!

Oh, and, any mothers here? Happy Mother's day!!

Plagarised by Pooja.

I received an email from a girl I owe a great deal of gratitude to, Katie - a Plagiarism Fighter, telling me that my story Arabian Nights has been plagiarised.
My first thought was "oh, crap" and then I texted my friend.

Me: I've been plagiarised by a "Pooja".
Friend: What's a Pooja?
Me: An Indian girl.

:D

Cheered up by that, I began to think about it clearly. This Pooja has plagiarised over a thousand stories from Fictionpress writers and posted it up on a forum, she has been warned over the implications of her criminal actions and ignored them, refusing to take down the stories or to even respond with an apology.

I have since been considering whether to remove my Fictionpress stories and it's a hard decision to make, believe me. I love sharing them and I love that everybody can read them and express their opinions back to me. However, I do not like having my ideas and my hard work stolen. I have spent too long on them just for them to be violated in such a way.

"Pooja" may simply be a selfish, unimaginative person who thought she could get away with it. Maybe she didn't consider how hurtful it actually is but I am a big advocate of personal freedom and the right each of us have to behave in any way that we like as long as it is morally fit and does not hurt others. The way I exercise this freedom is through writing and sharing what I write. Plagiarism is simply another form of stealing this freedom; it is the theft of a voice and of the emotion behind it.

I won't waffle for too long and get to the point. It is because of the above reason and because I have received many reviews about how inspirational my stories have been that I am not removing my stories. I feel it would be like succumbing to bad luck or a bad person and giving up my freedom. However small this is in comparison to the greater struggles in the world today and throughout history, I feel it is a battle nonetheless.

If we all remove our stories then plagiarism wins and we'll have lost out on doing something we love. We just all have to band together and keep an eye out for plagiarisers. If everybody helps a little then it will make a huge difference. So...that's my plea, I guess.

A big thanks to Plagiarism Fighters who do it all out of goodwill and in their precious spare time. Truly you are great.

I also want to thank all those who have read my stories, who have put them on alerts and favourited them. I especially want to thank all the reviewers...it is because of what you've said that I'm happy to keep the stories up here. You mean a lot more than any plagiariser can.

Lily.

Happy Spring!

So...It is March! I love March! I love the spring. And weirdly, so does my inspiration. So I've been writing a lot more and generally increasing the daydreaming levels.

I won't make grand claims of how I'll amaze you with my new work. Daydreaming is often only pleasurable for me as I can't see thedumb look on my face when doing it.

Anyone else like spring?

But...
Three poems written on a bus:

-

Dreams

A girl, sleeps, she dreams,

London, Tokyo, Paris.

Of valleys and streams,

Cold, sunny days, a warm kiss.

No limit to what she will see

Imagination is like the ocean.

Not bound by impossibility,

Strengthened by raw emotion.

"Love wholeheartedly" she sings,

"Forget rationality, nationality,"

She weaves memories into a ring.

Welding it with her creativity.

She let's it adorn her finger.

She breathes as it glints,

One last look, she want to linger,

But back she blinks,

Back.

-

We

Years don't change us.

We will always be just you and me.

Matters of age and distance

Are Boundaries that we cannot see

Slotting back to habit,

Laughter and memory

We relive adventures

Keep them how they used to be,

We will never really change

You are you and I'll always be me.

-

Memories of Song.

You hear a song. A song that you've heard a million times before.

You know all the words, you tap your fingers to the beat.

It reminds you of a person.

It never used to. It was just a good song, one you loved.

It reminds you of you.

Who you were when you first heard it, when you played it on repeat.

You remember the way you used to dance in your room to it.

You remember how it became a part of the soundtrack of the old you.

You didn't realise you were amidst perfect moments in time.

You hear a song.

You long to go back.

You vow that you'd make the most of it, if only you could go back.

You shut your eyes tight.

You are still you. You are still listening to that song.

Our Thoughts And Prayers Are With You

Have I Got News For You

So I was surfing through The Guardian Online and came across this lovely item. I thought it was, firstly, very cool. Secondly, I thought I'd share the news!

An Islamic Comic.

^ See?*

I have my preservations... The Guardian states there is only one "fully covered" superhero and I think they mean the niqab. In my opinion a hijab qualifies as "fully covered" and thus the inner cynic rises.

But I'll hold my opinion on the actual comic until I get a copy and read it for myself.

Crime busting superhero muslims...makes me wish I could draw.

*Picture taken from the Guargian website and belongs to them and the companies stated there.

No News is Good News.

Happy New Year!
Hope it was a good night for all!

This is a short post just to announce that after a long delay in posting on FictionPress there will be even more of a wait for the next chapters of Steps to Paradise.

Unofficial Hiatus. That's what I'm calling it. And it's for a bunch of reasons, health, responsibilities, work and, most importantly, I haven't been able to write to a level that I am happy to post. I don't want to rush chapters out only to disappoint myself and the readers.

So...that's what's going on.

I hope you stick around. Khalila and Adam will make it to a screen near you soon. I aim for February...God willing.
In the meantime I'll post little tidbits of the story that I've written but will not be including (mainly because they have nothing to do with the plot and I am in danger of creating a neverending story).
There is new Fan Art to add...Thanks to the artists! Their links will be provided below the pictures.
Also...expect some drabble. I have a lot of it.
Also also...a little teaser of a couple of new stories that are in the pipeline. (To be considered more seriously once StP is finished and posted!)

Thanks all,
Lily