All Your Cakes Are Mine

How A Random Email Basically Turned Me Into A Big Blob Of Happy

I got mail and I’m going to share it!

“Hey Wassup girl? ūüėČ You seem chillin’ like Jesus. lol. I lyke your blog and I ¬†recently started my own. I want some help with that!! – N.J”

And then he wrote something entirely inappropriate but I ignored that because I was shocked (read: overwhelmed) with this comparison. I mean, Jesus and yours truly in the same sentence? I could totally feel a beam of light from the heavens falling on my head.

“Dear N.J,
Thank you for writing such a nice email. I get tons of emails but yours really just stood out from the rest. It’s unique, straightforward with very interesting usage of vocabulary.
Just Kidding, your email was the first but you have set the bar so high (Literally) for forthcoming emails that it would take a lot of flattery (and bribing me with delectable food items) to upstage your wonderful words. While I can try to be humble, I will save us both from the hassle and accept your compliment. Who doesn’t love¬†the Holy Savior? Well, except for Satanists but they’re all touched in the head. Duh. This¬†reminds me that Jesus is not in my list of inspirational people on face the book (total mea culpa); I will add him straightaway. In other words, I inspire myself, amiright? because I be “chillin'”.

As for the second part of the email, you forgot to specify the help you need. Feel free to drop in another mail – along with a list of nice adjectives and how I’m as amazing as Tina Fey or my musings makes you think of Aristotle.
I will not respond to your last inquiry because it is¬†appalling¬†and gross and I’m pretty sure Jesus would not approve of¬†bizarre¬†mating rituals.

Writes2escape ”

Hit me up at for anything Рexcept for of course, inappropriate comments. 

Oh, The Things I Write About

I’m Going To Help You. With This Attempt At A Motivational Post

When I was in school, I had the worst teachers ever. I was miserable. And depressed. And wanted savage goats to dismember their limbs.

Their attitude towards me was of¬†contemptuous¬†nonchalance and since I was always so painfully shy and quiet, I, for years, had to tell my name over and over again. Like a damn mantra. Sometimes, I was also strongly tempted to tell them my name was, “Basheeran Butt-walli” or “Rani Mukherji” (Just because I only knew one¬†Indian¬†actress then)

I digress. What led me down this spiral of distress was the fact that each of my teachers thought I was nothing. I was stupid. I was a dunce. As much as I tried, I could never be as good as the other kids, and this made me angry – and bitter. I had ambitions but I felt they were slipping right out of my hand. I stopped believing in myself.

I think everybody goes through this phase¬†at least¬†once in a while where you want nothing more to wallow in depression and stuff your face in yummeries, and lie huddled up in your blanket and have 27 cats because cats can’t be mean, and they’ll always listen to you if you hold them tightly – unless there is something demonically wrong with them.
The scratches recieved later are only a minor hinderance.

This is normal. You’re beautiful. You’ve got so much inside you that this world has never seen before, and when you think your ambitions or dreams are stupid – Pause. Stop listening to what others say; it’s their job to steer you away but only you are rowing your own boat in this vast sea so why are you letting somebody else take the paddles? This is simply not cool.

Working on your ambitions is hard. Listening to people talk shit about you is hard. Having people ignore you and not know your name is hard .(Basheera Butt-wali is not a difficult name to remember) but that’s life. Wanting things is great,¬†achieving¬†them is even better. It helps you define your identity, it strengthens you. It even makes half of you, makes you realize your own worth. It will tell you that YOU matter, and you’re made of serious bad ass stuff like unicorns and scorpions. ¬†Sometimes you’ll fail, just like I did when I tried to run for office in my university elections. I lost, and I felt awful but I realized that I did something unimaginable: I tried doing something I was afraid of, and I succeeded in forcing back the fear of the unknown. The feeling is beautiful. Congratulations, you completed level one!

Scorpio+Unicorn =

With the qualities of a unicorn and scorpion combined! What a sight.

You have any dreams? Good. Tell me about them. Don’t let anybody incinerate them. Also, whenever you’re feeling worthless. Read this. Again. And Again. Exactly what I’m going to do. Because I wrote this post for myself too.

P.S: One day, I might just sent a letter to my teachers and certain people about this and include love from my¬†my hypothetical cat who is awesome at giving the ‘suck it’ stare. Sweet!

Oh, The Things I Write About

It’s Raining Quizzes and Assignments, And How Come Buffy Is In Here?

You would not believe how hectic the last week has been. Since finals are approaching, there has been this abundant shower of projects and¬†quizzes. Last night, I was working on a news story covering the water shortage of a particular area in the city till three in the morning and then I tried making my own coffee for once. It tasted like dung. And feet. And gums that have scurvy. (I have not tried any of the mentioned things but I’m sure they’re not appetizing)

Anyway, since my mother is so technologically challenged, she padded over to me and asked me to set the alarm for tomorrow.

My mother: Could you please set the alarm for 4.45 a.m?
(hands me the phone)
Me: Okay. (Could feel her staring at me) Uh, what?
My Mother: Have you seen the state of your eyes?
Me: No, because I don’t have a huge mirror in my room. If there was a huge mirror in my room, I would have known.
My Mother: Stop that. You have a very large mirror right there.
Me: but is it large enough? Is it, mum?
My Mother(clearly annoyed): Go to sleep early, alright? Your eyes are begging for some shut-eye with those shadows.Why can’t you just close that darned laptop¬†for once?
Me: (Hands over her phone)
My Mother: What time did you set it?
Me: 4.45? That’s what you told me.
My Mother: Oh. (squints at her phone, then squints at me) Go to sleep! Or I’ll tell your father –

For the sake of brevity, I’ll end it right here. Even though my mother has a more terrorizing presence, she occasionally uses the ‘I’ll tell yo father’ threat, hoping it would make us tremble and sputter as if Buffy¬†just teleported herself to Pakistan and is going to stake us. Which is ridiculous because the religious fundos would probably kill Buffy first because of her indecent attire which could corrupt the pliable minds of the youth and spread immoral cancer.

Haw – Haw