24th December 2005 to 24th December 2014.
9 whole years and counting.
It’s been a long time, dad. (The only way I can use that word anymore is by writing it because I certainly can’t say it to anyone else.)
I thought you’d be curious about what’s been going down here. We’ve got phones with as many megapixels as your old camera that you used to take family photos and preserve memories with. In general, 3D movies have gotten better. You missed Inception and Interstellar and I think you would have liked the fourth Pirates of the Caribbean movie just as much as the first. My Play Station 2 has remained boxed up for years, not so much fun to play without you in the living room. Things are not the same.
After you died, Molly wouldn’t come out of her cage for months, making me realize that birds grieve just as much as their human counterparts. Poor thing didn’t know what happened and now I am twenty years old, questioning religion, resenting my luck and catapulting into a quarter-life crisis, feeling like maybe I am the one who does not know what happened. Molly must have forgotten while I continually remember.
I seek comfort in imagining the afterlife. Yours. If Albus Dumbledore was indeed right, that to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure, I am sure yours is just that, perhaps more.
Now tell me…
what am I missing?
An ever grieving daughter
Dear Kinder Joy India,
I’d just like to say that your new Kinder Joy for Girls and for Boys, is a sore disappointment in the breaking down of gender stereotypes.
Out of curiosity about what’s inside, I went to buy a Kinder Joy egg yesterday and the shopkeeper asked me, “Girl or Boy?” It’s not an easy question to answer because I am biologically female but do not like girls toys. More importantly, if I were a transgender, what answer would I be able to give? None.
I remember when I was a kid how delighted I was to buy a Kinder Joy egg, completely unaware of what sort of toy would be inside that chocolate goodness. We didn’t anticipate a feminine or masculine toy but rather a toy. That was why it was special. But as a child, if I had bought a Kinder Joy for Girls, I’d be disappointed if I received a bracelet like this:
Let me please remind you that there are girls who like to play with Hot Wheels (I was one) and boys who like to play with Barbies. AND THAT IS OKAY. We should be encouraging children to be themselves and if that ‘self’ is not necessarily in accordance with gender norms or roles then there’s nothing wrong with that.
Shame on you for making gender-stereotypical toys, reinforcing that line between girls and boys. As if cooties weren’t enough.
a 20-year-old outraged customer (yes I’m 20)
We’ve grown up with Harry, Ron and Hermione. We’ve gone to theatres and stood in line at midnight for tickets and copies of the books when they released. We’ve dressed up as the characters for Halloween (I’ve gone as Hermione) and pretended we went to Hogwarts with them. We had Harry Potter birthday cakes and themed parties because that was all the rage when we were seven years old.
Now, here I am at nineteen mourning the end of my favourite series of all time. Sometimes it just hits me that…it’s over. There will be no more books and movies. There may be spin offs surfacing but I won’t love it like the original, of that I’m sure. But one thing I am sure of is that we, the Potterheads, will remain. We’re just as much a part of Harry Potter as Harry Potter is of us. To us, Harry and his friends are immortal. Each one of them has taught us something different. Worth more than a school education, that’s for sure.
We have Harry who taught us to be brave and value our loved ones then Ron who taught us how to laugh and to be loyal. Hermione taught us that intelligence is endearing and Luna taught us that it’s okay to be different. Malfoy taught us that somehow we can fight the pressure to do wrong, that we don’t have to be what people expect us to be. He’s a moral standpoint. Dumbledore taught us not to judge a book by it’s cover and that silver beards that flow to the ground are wicked cool. And Hagrid taught us that it’s okay to bring home dragon eggs from strangers except that it’ll be a whole lot of trouble. But I think Hagrid would definitely say that it’s worth it.
One day younger generations will pick up a copy and read it. For them it will be a classic and we can proudly say we were there for it all.
We lived it and we loved it.
one among you
p.s I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.
I decided to write to one fandom instead of one person for this one 🙂
To all the musicians out there…
Thank you. Whether I like your music or not, there is someone out there whose heart you’ve touched with your music. A safe place you’ve given them the minute they plug in their headphones. A feeling like no other. That is a gift. So don’t let anyone stop you. Because the world would be a terrible place without your art.
Those who are drowning in the depth of your voices (in the good kind of way)
I dislike those who bash on other people’s taste in music as if their’s is superior. Liking pop stars doesn’t mean your taste is stupid like some people like to point out. What is stupid is that they don’t understand that music is music and that there is an audience for every artist. Respect them all.
Dear Monster under the Bed,
There are times when I just sit in the dark and my thoughts turn to you. I know that the more I think of you, the more you think of me.
You’re the only form of company I have and it seems as if I’m yours. We’ve been sharing the same bed for too long to be anything else, nothing but two sides of the same mattress.Though, I’m unsure which side is murkier… I’ve gotten to be quite close to the demons dancing in my mind.
And you’ve heard all my dirty dark secrets, the words I whisper to myself and the things I can’t say beyond the four walls of my room. Sometimes it’s as if someone is listening but it’s always been you. Only you.
The tears I’ve cried into the pillow have seeped below my bed till you soaked it up like a blanket. You must be intoxicated from the sadness like I am when I’m drinking my time away.
We’re a dysfunctional pair that can’t live without the other. We’re more alike than you think. You know me better than anyone else. There may be a reason for that.
Because we’re not enemies. We’re not friends.
We’re the same.
The Monster above the Bed
p.s See you on the other side (pun intended).
a/n: I’m obsessed with The Monster. Eminem and Rihanna seriously need to record a whole album, I swear.
To those teachers that have taught me everything I know and who aren’t appreciated by society or students themselves, I salute you and your hard, dedicated work because to teach you must learn twice. Some of you have changed my life and you deserve a round of applause. *clapping*
To that guy who delivers my pizza, thanks for sparing me the trip to the mall when all I want to do is lounge around at home in my pajamas binge-watching TV show seasons. I hope you think I tip well enough.
To struggling musicians who have to put up with people calling them unemployed, don’t give up. Your music has the ability to transport someone into another world just by plugging in their ear phones and that’s a gift you shouldn’t waste.
To single parents who manage to raise their kids to be wonderful human beings, I respect and admire the courage it takes to do that, sometimes by choice and sometimes due to unfortunate circumstances. Your kids are proud, let me tell you that, because there are times when we don’t say it but by god do we mean it.
So to everyone I don’t thank enough, thank you and god bless all of you.
A thankful pessimist who feels suddenly optimistic