What does the FOX say?!

The minute I saw this random picture on Google, I immediately broke out into the highly popular song, "What does the fox say?!"

I'm sure me and my thousands of followers are wondering the exact same thing: How did a song like this become popular?

For the very same reason Rebecca Black is popular (Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday!).

Brace yourself, dear reader, because I'm about to embark on a highly complicated journey of words and wisdom.

I've been preparing for this blog the entire week by observing people throughout the city: in the streets, in the mall, at parties, at school and even on the TTC and before I go any further I'd like to apologize for scaring the drunk, homeless man I met on the bus by asking him, "What does the fox say?"

After careful observation, and several restraining orders, I've come to the conclusion that no one really cares what the fox says. We all want to be the rabbits. We all want to blend within one another with minimal visible differences. We all want the same long, white ears, the thin and strokable whiskers, and, most importantly, we all want the white fur that allows us the comfort of blending.

The only differentiation that we allow ourselves to have are minuscule ones like glasses, eyebrows, and maybe a small beauty mark (which we later decide to cover up with foundation).

The reality is, dear reader, that we are afraid to stand out, afraid to adapt an identity that defines us for who we really are. Sure, it's easy to say and be all this when you're famous and well known because of the support you get from your fans all around the world and, of course, the hate mail! Can't forget the hate mail (I live for hate mail, which reminds me, where's mine?). But when you are a nobody, when you're just another co-worker, or a student, or a fellow TTCer, how do you muster up the courage to be who you really want to be?

How do you allow yourself to become the highly stylish and confident fox standing amidst the sea of rabbits? How do you have the courage to ignore the looks given to you, to rid yourself of the brainwash that has been embedded in you since day one? How do you say no to something that is a yes for all of the rabbits?

The truth is, dear reader, you can't. Not at first anyways, because no one wants to hear it. You do it gradually and slowly, like testing the waters before cannon-balling into it and that's where I am. I am dipping my toes, testing my water, bit by bit to see if I can cannon-ball into the world of writing and announce myself as a published author.

And I'm scared to the bone.

But, everyday I look at this picture and encourage myself to become the uber cool fox, who stands in a non-chalant way but is still scared inside because no one has asked her yet what it is that she wants to say.

And that's what I want for you, dear reader, to build your courage bit by bit and to stand like the foxy reader that you are in the blandness of white.

iSheeza

The Blockness Monster! DUN DUN DUN!

Doesn't this picture just make your day? Don't you want to be this self assured potato strutting down the street, dear reader?

I sure do, some of my students even added a hat and a walking stick to this fabulous vegetable and redefined the word dapper.

I would marry this potato if I wasn't already married to the love of my life.

This self assured vegetable is in a state of content and confidence despite the haters who constantly surround him. He understands that no matter who you are or what you become in life, there is always going to be someone who disagrees.

These individuals who have their theories and ideas and opinions are who I call, "THE BLOCKNESS MONSTERS!"

They specialize in creating hurdles and challenges in your life that are near impossible to overcome and build up high, towering walls that you can't possibly climb.

They stick out their legs so you'll trip over them on your way and then point and laugh at you as you dust yourself off and try to stand up.

The Blockness Monsters have the ability to take any shape they desire: bullies, society, social media, culture, practicality and sometimes just life.

By now you should all be nodding your head and saying, "You're so right, Sheeza!"

I have met the Blockness Monster myself multiple times and this creature comes to me in different forms and shapes, but what do I do? How do I deal with this problem? Do I cry and hate life? Do I go to my "kill yourself because you have nothing to live for" playlist? Do I call up my friends and rant about how unfair life is?

Yes, yes I do.

But, after I am done all of that I close my eyes, take a deep breath and hold my head high.

I work hard and I pray harder to climb over this impossibly tall wall. And it happens.

How does that happen, dear reader? Does the problem decide to go away? Is the Blockness Monster scared of me? Do I suddenly have swag?!

What happens, dear reader, is that I change my attitude.

If the Blockness Monster is standing in front of something that I truly desire, I will fight for it.

I change.

I work harder, I do instead of plan (which is the biggest monster of them all), and I let my accomplishments speak for me instead of going to everyone and getting them to believe that I am worthy.

What I am trying to say, dear reader, is that "yesterday I was clever and I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself."

The author of this brilliant statement is the famous poet, Rumi and I understand what he's trying to say.

The potato understands what he's trying to say.

Do you understand, dear reader?

iSheeza

Mirror Mirror on the Wall, Who is the Fairest of them All?

So today was another normal, Thursday morning and I was working on my novel. My sister came in and handed me the rest of her tea, asking me to finish it off for her.

After one sip I realized there was not a trace of sugar in that cup.

She doesn't take sugar now, she's cut back.

A few sentences about my sister before I go on with what's been on my mind, dear reader. By the way I started this post many of you are probably thinking that I'm about to tell you a story about a girl who is battling with anorexia and self-image.

But, fortunately, that is not the case. My sister has studied nutrition, human body, anatomy, physiology, the brain, sleep, embryology and participated in hands on "gym" classes. These are just the names of the courses she has taken while pursuing her undergrad degree, so it safe to assume that she is a smart individual who makes good choices.

And yes, she is the smart child of the family. The one who ruins it for everyone else on report card day (kidding, she's my rock!). #Brownfamilyproblems

But what's a sister-sister relationship without some good, old fashion, "UGH! GOD! I HATE YOU!"

My sister, dear reader, is a person who studies her body in such excruciating detail that it drives the entire family to the brink of insanity. She knows what she needs to eat, how much of it, and when to eat it.

Is she obsessed? Does she need rehab?

No, she isn't obsessed. For her, its about having the body, yes, but having it the right way. By cutting down on junk, getting her protein, minimizing the oil and a DAILY workout. She does it because it's important to her. She likes herself this way.

Me, on the other hand, i'm not that crazy about it. Chips is my hamartia, dear reader, and you literally have to snatch the bag out of my hands if you want me to stop eating it. The chips have a negative impact on my body, naturally, unless they are magic chips that never finish or give me any unwanted fat! Wishful thinking!

Do I complain and hate myself for it? Nope, because that's me. I am okay with the way I am. I admit that I am a closet fatty, one who eats junk when she knows she shouldn't, and it affects my body.

Here is what I don't do: I don't hate every skinny person, or tell them how lucky they are to be this way and how much I need to change myself just so I can fit the society's criteria of "attractive."

You need to understand and appreciate the dedication that goes in attaining and MAINTAINING that body. Trust me, I have experienced it first hand and some days really suck for ze sister and I ask her why she puts up with it.

She shrugs and says, "It's what I want, wouldn't you do that same?"

And then it hit me dear reader. She was doing it for herself not for society, not for the praise, but because she wanted to. It's all about you, how you choose to see yourself and how you should strive in that direction, ignoring the constant voices who are attacking you.

In this case my mom, who is tired of having to cook healthy. #Brownfamilyproblems

She chooses be to a healthy, athletic individual who is defined by her healthy choices.

On the other hand, I choose to be an author, who accepts that she eats too many chips. But that doesn't mean I am undermining myself in anyway. You need to set yourself up according to your standards and whether you choose to raise them or lower them should be entirely up to you.

And that is the hardest thing in the world, isn't it, dear reader? To believe that you are worth it. To accept yourself the way you are because you have been beaten to pulp by society and its RIDICULOUS (I just screamed that word out loud, you should too) standards.

"UGH! God Society, I HATE YOU!"

And that is what I want to teach you with my upcoming novel, to empower yourself through your differences and to judge yourself based on your standards. #shamlesspromotion #idealstolenfrombrownaunties

Easier said than done? I agree! But, I will fight along with you, valiant reader, and hope to see you come out shining!

 iSheeza

Detergent...I mean Divergent!

Before your passion rises and you want to put me in my place, dear reader, rest assured that I am a Divergent lover.

Then why are you calling it detergent?

Like most normal families I too have super, annoying siblings (who will be termed "ze sibs" from here on out) and they were constantly after me to read this series.

They continuously raved about it, made jokes in reference to it, and pledged their immense loyalty to the Divergent fandom (of which I am now currently the president. We meet every Thursday at 4:00 pm. Admission fees is a box of chocolate chip cookies).  So, I started calling it detergent to get "ze sibs" off my back. But, after I finished reading it, I fell in love with what Roth had created.

Roth captured the one dilemma that every person faces, the constant need to be accepted and loved. The need to belong. Everyone is battling this fear, even adults. They just hide it really well.

It would be really odd if your mom came up to you, crying, and said, "She won't play with me. She says my career sucks!" So, what do we "grown ups" do? Easy. We hide our problems behind smiles and nonchalant shrugs.

Well, that's what I do and I'm an adult.

The teenagers, in this case, are much cooler. They are not afraid to express their fears of not being accepted or belonging to a group, a class, a lunch table or, in some cases, the bathroom.

You know what I'm talking about, right? You only go to the bathroom with a certain group of people, anyone outside that group is "so NOT invited."

I don't need you, Chelsea! I have a blog now!

Where was I? Oh yes, belonging. Roth showed the power of belonging. We all long to be an important, vital, part of something. And not just belong there for the sake of belonging, but to feel like you belong there.

When you know that you are good at something or that you can perform a task well, you give it the extra mile and you come out shinning, which is what Tris discovered, which is what you can discover, dear reader, if you constantly try to find that part of your life. The part where you truly belong.

Where do I belong? Right here, behind this computer screen and here is where I feel important and strong. and, can I tell you a secret, dear reader?

I feel like I am excelling!

So, thank you , Veronica Roth, for teaching me two powerful lessons:

a) It's worth finding out where you belong.
b) We're going to have to increase the admission fees to TWO boxes of chocolate chip cookies.

iSheeza

Don't knock it till you rock it!

Is that a baby crocodile on my shoulder?!

Yes, yes it is.

First off, I would like you to ignore the unflattering way the camera has captured my face because like every girl on this planet I have a problem with my face.

Not really, this is just a weird picture. I actually consider myself to be quite attractive, but this was the only photo I had with this little guy on my shoulder.

Is this going to be a post about me and my adventurous trip to Cuba? Nope.

It is, however, about the baby crocodile on my shoulder. It's all a big metaphor, see?

Writing for me, dear reader, had always been something scary, something big and up until last year, unattainable. But tonight, I have reached my midway point, 33k words! I took that step, mustered up all of my courage to reach out and make that dream tangible!

I have been debating with myself whether or not I should publicize the fact that my novel is going fantastically, hence the title of the blog. People say that you "don't knock it till you rock it," meaning that don't show your talents until you are absolutely sure of them.

That would also be the philosophy that I had grown up with all of my life and now I disagree.

The big, bad nobody disagrees. Cue the dramatic music.

I think you should rock every stage of this scary life, especially the terrifying moments. Rock every single one of them. Why? Because those are the moments that require the most courage, the insane amount of work, the most dramatic of panic attacks and let us not forget the mountain of criticism that diminishes every atom of self-esteem.

As if we aren't running low on it anyways these days. Right?

That's why I have decided to step up, post this weirdly taken picture of my usually flattering face and shout it out to you, dear readers, that I am half way through my novel. I am scared and excited and I am dreaming big. Just like I was scared to have a baby crocodile with razor sharp teeth chill on my shoulder, but I did it. And I survived (even though his mouth was tied and I could probably do more damage to him then he could to me, but nobody needs to know that!).

I want to remember this moment. The equilibrium between the place where I am practicing my interview on the Ellen show and the place where I am going to be known as the girl-who-failed.-and-had-her-dreams-crushed. The choice is mine and right now the only thing I am concerned about is the outfit I am going to rock at the Ellen Show.

This makes me happy.

 How about you, dear reader, when are you going to survive your baby crocodile?

The Fault in our Stars:the reason I studied Literature.

The Fault in our Stars has single-handedly answered the one question the brown community has for me.

"Why did you study English when you already know how to speak it?"

If I sat down and began explaining the cultural logic behind that question then you would all, dear readers (fingers crossed), have some piece of an anthropology degree in your pocket by the time I'm done with you.

Anyways, back to the topic, I read this novel en route to Ottawa and  I could not put this novel down. My fingers absolutely refused! The way Green had constructed this novel was beautiful. It showcased the reality of cancer rather than the romanticized image of the disease.

But that's not the big picture. The novel had references, not just any references, literary references. Let's all say it together again for emphasis, or just me, if I'm still the only one here.

Literary references.

Now, I'm giggling. Alone.

First off the title, it's a Shakespearean reference! And not from Romeo and Juliet ( not to hate on the romantics out there, especially me!) which was a breath of fresh air!

Then he goes onto mention names like Sylvia Plath and the second my brain comprehended that name I jumped in my seat. You wanna guess why?

Because I knew her. I knew that she was an author of a super depressing book I read for a class, if the low grades and tuition fees don't cut it for you, in which the main character plans to kills herself in excruciating detail. She's very creative, from swallowing 50 sleeping pills to planning her own kidnapping and death.

Spoiler Alert:  She survives and has a baby.

God help that child.

But I'm proud to know her. Why? Because she is mentioned in Green's novel and I knew her. I knew that depressing author.

And do you know how? Because I studied English Literature.

Then, Green mentions the play "Waiting for Godot," and I all but jump up screaming, "I love that play!"

Green knows me so well, dear reader, so well.

It's like we're the same, but different.

So, here it is brown community. All the uncles and aunties. The reason why I studied Literature is so that when John Green would write a novel with literary references I would know each and every one of them.

And also so I can read and understand the deeper tones of the novel, like how Green strips away the romanticized misconceptions we can formulate about subjects like cancer and our favourite authors and to ask questions like if stripping away the romanticized concepts was something Green was attempting then why did Hazel wants the perfect ending for An Imperial Affliction?

What do you say to that, uncles and aunties?