Your half smiles, a celebration

your attention, validation.

Did you know you’re someones version of wonderful?

a last little secret before they fall asleep,

a story they tell themselves

a scenario they’ve created

a pedestal you’re on

a comparison no one can measure up against.

Because you’re a very particular kind of wonderful.

Did you know where you’ve gone? In someones version of wonderful?

It’s amazing how kind the world can be when you’re beside me so wonderfully

Through crowded streets and empty lanes —

Through culinary experiences and getting coffee in the rain.

Through immigration, through long waits, through losing my money and through losing my faith.

there you are — so wonderful.

& there I am, a 100% me.

Sans filter // Sans corset // Sans updates

No more timid laughs, no well thought out words.

because you’re so wonderful,

I give myself a chance,

I’m confident, I dance, I laugh & I Scream

only when you’re wonderful — and only in my dreams.

And then I wake up, and start again

Hoping to one day be so wonderful for someone, somewhere.

My best friend just turned 25. As our resident drama queen, a couple of friends and I went all out to celebrate this birthday with a long drawn out birthday week. This included 2 dinners, a brunch, cake at midnight, a huge blow out party and a farewell lunch. Each event had a carefully curated outfit, a picture session and a post event group chat discussion. Surprisingly enough, my fat ass didn’t look too bad … or so I thought.

Towards the end of the week, we were all pretty tired. So on the second last night we decided to have some quiet time and go for a intimate chill session. I finished work, then a work out, then a rushed no-carb dinner and ran out to play with my people. Keep in mind, these are the people I feel safest around, my judgement free/drama free/ ride or die crew.

Suddenly, someone pipes up with a, “Listen, we really need to talk to you”

The other one chimes in with a, “It’s only because we love you”

and suddenly, my safe space was no more.

I spent the next 20 minutes or so listening to how imperative it is that I lose weight.

How I need to work out at least 3 hours a day and exhaust my body until I couldnt anymore.

How I needed to set a target and lose atleast 5 kilos a month.

How I need to write down my weight and give it to my friend so she could keep me accountable.

How we live in a shallow world and I’m amazing, and funny, and beautiful and I just need to focus on this one thing.

I heard examples of other people who have gotten through this. I heard assurances that I wasn’t alone. Beyond a point I only heard a faint buzz.

There are many things I could have said during this conversation. I could have said that “I don’t need to worry about you guys judging my body in addition to every other fucking person I know” or that “I work out daily and dont eat carbs and work with a trainer and know more about nutrition than anyone in this room so BACK OFF” should I have apologized? hit them with a “sorry I make your size 0 asses look imbalanced in pictures, sorry I weight twice your weight, sorry I have to work so hard to look decent, when you roll out of bed looking flawless” or maybe I could have said “if I don’t lose the weight should I consider writing you guys off? because there’s a very real possibility my and my size 18 ass stay this size forever.”

What I really wanted to say was:

“I have never discussed my body with you. I have never allowed you to see any of the doubts I bury so deep within my heart. I don’t complain about all the dates I’m not going on, all the clothes I can’t buy, all the opportunities I don’t get. I have a deep reservoir of insecurities that you have never seen and will never see because I have spent the last 7 years of our friendship portraying myself as a positive, confident person. HOW DARE you take this away from me? Who the hell gave you the right to get so personal?”

but I didn’t do any of that.

Like the penguins from fucking Madagascar I just smiled and waved. Because I had bottled up all of my insecurities but these people are my best friends. Clearly some of my self loathing had spilled out into their streams of consciousness.

I didn’t go there because it clearly came from a place of love.

An ignorant, misguided, shallow place of love.

Mostly I didn’t go there because I was scared. I was scared I would seem defensive. I was scared I would be seen as making excuses. Lazy. Useless. all the adjectives that make fat people so funny. I was scared my big fat single lazy ass would be completely alone in this world without the friends that I count on every day for companionship and affection.

So I swallowed your bitter intervention that I did not need.

I have not changed anything since that day. I’m still eating clean. I’m still working out. I’m still trying to be the healthiest and strongest person I can be. I even resisted the urge to cry on the way home, pull over at the gas station and dive into some flaming hot Cheetos. I resisted the urge to tell you how hurt I was. I tried to appreciate the fact that you cared and that you love me.

And the next day when we met for lunch, I didn’t order anything, and kept fixing my posture so my fat rolls wouldn’t bunch up in front of you.

I don’t think you noticed.

The Intervention I Didn’t Need was originally published in P.S. I Love You on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

A letter from me to me on accepting shitty behavior.

Dear L.C.

Why can’t you admit it when people are shitty to you? Is it because you really think “they’re busy”?

Do you actually doubt your own intelligence and convince yourself that “it’s in your head”?

Or is it because it’s easier to rationalize hurt than admit that people may not love you as much as you think? Because you would rather it was a variable affecting them in their life, as opposed to what you really believe it is deep down? That they don’t reciprocate your feelings?

I’m writing you this letter, to beg you, to stop making excuses for other peoples shitty behavior.

Stop lying to yourself

Stop internalizing all this pressure.

Stop worrying about ending up a very lonely caterpillar.

You work in a corporate setting — let’s put down a SOP to deal with this.

The next time someone hurts your feelings the first thing you need to do is.

1) Figure out if it’s actually a big deal

Not gonna lie, you are a little dramatic. A tiny joke at your expense is not the same as blowing you off three weekends in a row. If it’s the first I agree with you, your person blipped. You should totally ignore it and put up a cute picture of them with a heart GIF on your IG story.

If it’s the second, please open your eyes and realize NO ONE you know ever goes offline for more than a day. You can give them a day, maybe a weekend, if they’re super important even a week. But post that, you’re being messed with. Have some self respect and admit it to yourself at least.

Be careful though because a lot of things you’re sensitive about is because of the crappy relationship you have with yourself. If you could work on that, that would be great!

Okay, so they actually have treated you badly. But it’s okay because for step 2 you need to:

2) Rely on Yourself

If you need help to do something turn to google, if it’s not on google and you still can’t figure it out maybe check quora?

Stop assuming support from people is your right. It is not. You come off as codependent and privileged, and are probably a really painful friend to have.

That thing where you thought life was all about helping each other and that you’ll get by with a little help from your friends doesn’t work anymore, please be more independent.

Maybe once you stop needing people so much and having such high expectations of them, they will stop disappointing you.

Also, while you’re at it. Please stop with the always available for everyone thing.

Is this a shitty way to go about life? I don’t know, I haven’t tried it yet. But I do think it’s important you take a step back and prioritize yourself. Life should not be about Quid Pro Quo and helping people is a great feeling but ultimately if you’re helping people at the expense of your own sanity, you’re going to expect reciprocation which takes me back to RELY ON YOURSELF.

The truth is, even if you manage your expectations — sometimes you just have to…

3) Let It Hurt

If it is a big deal and your expectations weren’t met you could possibly just let it hurt? Just deal with the fact that sometimes people suck, but that does not make them bad people. Your friendship amounts to a lot more than occasional assholic behavior and for the sake of your friendship and your sanity sometimes you can just take it, be a little passive aggressive and move on.

Admit that this wasn’t the best behavior

Swallow the disappointment

and move on.

I wish I could tell you to bring it up, to talk about it openly, to try and resolve your feelings through communication, but I have seen you in those situations. You’re too emotionally invested, you get really messy and you end up feeling worse than ever. I wish I could tell you how to fix that, but I’m only speaking from very limited experience and I think for right now, your best bet is avoidance.

When this sinks in a little, maybe read up on letting toxic people go. Make your peace with the fact that no one can be in your life forever and life goes on regardless of who’s in it.

Love,

Yourself.

The Excuses I Make For You was originally published in P.S. I Love You on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Apparently, every bad experience is taking me one step closer to professional bliss. So I continue doing my hair, wearing uncomfortable trousers, making paper thin excuses for my disappearances and printing out copies of my CV.

I haven’t gained much in terms of learning opportunities but I have had some AWKWARD AF moments that would probably entertain you. So welcome to my new series “The Odd Interview”!

Today’s interview —

Someone messaged me on LinkedIn the other day saying they had viewed my profile and wanted to meet for a chat — no job description, no company profile but a great track record. So I did what any desperate job seeker would do and rocked up to the Dubai Mall VIP lounge to meet this individual. Ofcourse today was also the day I had to pick up my car from service and forget to bring along my cv. (Rookie mistake — always print the cv.

So I went to collect my car where stashed in the back was a folder with one lonely cv waiting for me. Made it to Dubai mall with 10 minutes to spare, no make up on and it was way too hot to put on my jacket.

Scoped out the vip lounge which is now my favorite part of the mall! It’s hidden away, and super lush with a panoramic view of the Dubai fountains which although I’ve lived in Dubai my entire life, I’ve never seen in the day.

She was already sitting in the lounge so I had the concierge walk me to the washroom and literally put on makeup in 10 seconds. To give you a frame of reference the concierge looked SHOOK when I left the washroom that’s how badly my face needed making up.

The interview in itself was a bit awkward — she asked me all about my career and then went on to tell me about her past, her work ethic and how she can’t stand whiny people who are waiting to be taught as opposed to learning themselves. This was all good but towards the end she told me she only had one client and wasn’t sure she would be needing help at all (which made me really happy id risked my job and snuck out of work to drive half an hour away as you would imagine). She also asked me why I would want to leave my job to work at such a small set up.

Now while I’ve been asked the “so, why do you want to work here?” question many times this one was strange coz I literally knew nothing about her company! And she didn’t know if she wanted me! Suffice it to say she hasn’t been in touch since.

The one great thing about this interview was finding the vip lounge. It took ALL MY SELF CONTROL not to pull out my phone and save it for the gram. I googled it to see if I could visit again but shoppers can only use the mall if they spend 50,000 dhs at the mall in one month!!!! That is like, SO VIP.

It was also super interesting to see someone who had the same career trajectory as me carve this path for themselves.

If she does reach out again I’m probably going to try to freelance for her but for now looks like another dead end!

Dream Interview:

When I got an email from this agency I FLIPPED. I’m on a facebook group for journalists in Dubai where one awesome individual had posted a casual recruitment post. I emailed him and forgot about it, because in my experience agencies like this don’t hire randoms through cold calls.

When the call came in for me to go in and meet them I was so excited. I was having the mother of all bad weeks and I really needed something positive to turn my month around. I walked in to interview with two senior people from the team and spent around an hour chatting with them. The research I did before into the heritage of the agency, how the person interviewing me had gotten to this position, what clients they had, what work they had done— it all came up in conversation, but more importantly it really educated me in terms of what my career could look like.

After a really long chat one of the the gentlemen told me that meeting me and hearing my perspective had been lovely and they would be in touch with an assignment.

I walk out of there feeling like a million bucks. To understand why this seemingly average interview was such a big deal, you need to understand how low I had been before it. I had no prospects, I was overworked and I was feeling like I would never find a way out.

This interview helped me shift gears and hold on to hope. That injection of optimism has saved me over the last couple of months and for that I will be forever grateful.

It’s been three months and I haven’t heard back. Did this ruin the amazing perception I had of these guys? a little. I even emailed them THE MOST DESPERATE email I have ever written, I’m going to attach a screenshot in the next frame for you to laugh at. I think that might have injured my chances further. But still, as I write this, a part of me is waiting for an email from one of them, asking me to do a ridiculously complicated assessment in a ridiculously short amount of time.

So my question to you is: Do I continue loving them for being the nicest interview I have had yet? Or do I hate them for giving me false hope.

I honestly can’t decide.

I drove up a mountain today, on my way to your town. I felt the air change, felt my world become sepia. I lit a cigarette, it was just an excuse to put my window down and breathe your rarefied Ooty air. Before my last drag we came to your driveway, if thats what you call the entrance to a palace.

I can’t believe I was in Jeddah a week ago. To you it will feel like a different planet. It’s so hot there, I’ve never known such heat before. I left to make money, to make myself a man, to make myself worthy of you. Sometimes, I feel like the heat has made me nameless, faceless, just another Indian working all day.

I haven’t met you yet but I’ve seen your “driveway” and it already feels like you’re everything I want and will never have.

When I write to you next, I would have met you for the first time. And I will never be the same.

Reg,

F

F,

I’m writing in a rush, my sister is waiting for me to go brew tea for some guests. They have come in from Bombay and according to my sister they’re both good looking charmers. Sometimes, I wish they would all go away. The visitors, my family, they’re expectations. I hate waiting for them to choose which of my sisters to give their attention to, I hate watching them ask for tea, ask for sugar, ask for milk, while their eyes ask for attention. I hate having to wake up an hour earlier in this freezing cold to tame my hair, liven up my face, pick out an outfit. It feels so futile. Sometimes I wish I could go away.

I haven’t met you yet but I’m already jealous of your freedom. Your life is yours to shape, your partners are yours to choose. I wonder what it would be like to be so free. To have a passport, to live in a city, to meet new people constantly.

As much as I hate the visitors, I also wait for them because they bring with them a little bit of the outside world. Past this gated driveway where I’m tucked away.

The next time I write to you I would have met you for the first time. And I will never be the same.

Reg,

P.

P,

Did you notice me noticing you? I saw your little cousin pointing and giggling and for one golden second I had hope. It was quickly extinguished when your father offered me a cigar from his humidor. I accepted one, lit it the way I’ve seen people do in the movies, and with every puff realized I was smoking the equivalent of my monthly salary.

I wish I had known you before the raid, before my fathers life’s work was taken away over red tape. When I could have dared to hope.

I wish I could tell you to look me in the eye. It’s become a game of desperation waiting go catch your gaze. I was looking for a record when I peeped into your library. Tell me, when each of you sisters decorated your own book shelves, were you trying to establish your own personality in a way you can’t in person?

Matching what I know of you to the lurid books on your shelf has kept me up all of last night. That, and how cold my feet are.

I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s not the smartest move, but tomorrow I’m going to try and carve out a minute alone with you. In the larger scheme of things, I don’t think it will do much harm.

Reg,

F

F,

I knew you were looking at me! When H (who is 8 years old and definitely shouldn’t be so aware) came to me and said “P, that fellow is always looking at you!” I didn’t know if I should believe her.

I can’t believe you sent him back in for a lighter. When you pulled out the little clipper hidden away in your pocket and winked at me I felt like I would burst into tiny sparks too!

I can’t believe you love Ayn Rand too. When I read the Fountainhead I always dreamed of having someone to discuss it with. Now that you have told me Atlas Shrugged is your favorite, I can’t wait to get my hands on it.

Oh F, I have spent that last 24 years waiting for my love story to begin, I can’t believe this is happening! Let’s meet under the canopy tomorrow for a cup of tea? I can bring my sister along so no one gets suspicious, I’ve been a cover for her at least 7 times in the last month.

I’m going to wear my Rekha-inspired dress, the one she wore in her most recent movie. I got it tailored a couple months ago, but I wanted to wear it for a true Bollywood moment so I had put it away.

Last night when you were listening to the records with my dad I could picture our future. When you started singing about the girl in the Bungalow my moms smile was as wide as the said house! I couldn’t smile though. I so badly wanted you to sing for me.

Until Dusk Tomorrow!

Yours,

P

I started my new week with a new top. It’s hella cute, I would show you but I’m shy. I decided to wear this new shirt to go with my salon perfect blow dry from the weekend. Since I didn’t have to waste time picking out my clothes I put in a little extra time on my makeup, jazzed up my everyday basic eyeliner and lip stain. Took a few minutes extra to pair it with a gorgeous bauble chain I never wear because nothing I own is worthy of such a pretty necklace.

I left the house feeling good. Really good actually — I got into my red mini, with my red top and my red lips and plugged in my July playlist (it’s amazing, if you disagree, JULYINGG). I was flipping my hair around being a little extra, singing like they do in the movies, the guy in the Jaguar was a little amused, we made eye contact and it just made me flip my hair some more.

I considered writing a post committing to dressing better everyday so I could feel like this on the regular. My basic work week was feeling alright, I could live with this.

Until you.

Until you came in and “complimented” me.

Until your eyes lingered on me a minute too long.

Until you made me feel over dressed.

Until you made it a point to let me know I should look like this everyday.

I’ve been sitting here for the last hour feeling conscious, tugging on my new top, adjusting my bling, smudging my lipstick, allowing you to make me feel like less. Maybe it’s partly my fault. For giving you this power, for caring about this minuscule interaction in an otherwise great day. So I’m going to write about it and continue flipping my hair.

But it’s also your fault. Your words are your fault. Your position of power, your age, your assumption that my body, my outfit or my shopping choices are for you to comment on or judge in any way is your fault.

Be Better.

Did you check?

Yes

Feeling good?

Yes

So, was it less?

No

But you haven’t eaten all week

Yes, I know

Maybe, you should work out twice a day

Yeah I’ll go swim tomorrow morning

Or maybe it’s a hormonal thing, check after your period

Maybe

Okay, we’ll check after your period

Okay

You know this distantly related never mentioned stranger lost a lot of weight by howling at the moon

Yeah saw her on Instagram

And then she had gone for another distant relatives wedding and she met this boy

Hmmmmmm

Their wedding is next week, we should go

Okay

But what will you wear? The navy blue is slimming

So I’ll wear that

Yeah and you can get your hair done in the morning too

Okay

I’m making you an appointment, get your nails done also and maybe a facial

Cool

This week we just won’t eat anything unhealthy, we’ll do a juice diet together, your skin will also glow at the wedding

Okay

Skip swimming tomorrow I don’t want you to tan, just go for a walk in the evening

Fine

I love you so much, you mean the world to me.

I let myself dream

Until Reality intrudes

I let myself believe

Until Reality intrudes

I let myself live a Disney fantasy

Until brown skin intrudes

I let myself dance & chase highs

Until religion intrudes

I let myself dress up

Until cellulite intrudes

I let myself be Queen

Until poverty intrudes

I let myself be enlightened

Until materialism intrudes

I let myself tell you my truth

Until my heart intrudes

I let myself follow my desires

Until my conscience intrudes

I let myself dream

Until Reality intrudes

Allow Me This Dream was originally published in Lit Up on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Can we talk about this for a minute? Can we talk about why I spent Thursday night sobbing to my mom about all the love I was waiting for, but am so worried I won’t find?

I spend a lot of time trying to be chill, trying to be fiercely independent and thankful for freedom and my single status; pretending that the spectre of an arranged marriage is abhorred and never eagerly-awaited. The truth is, for the first twenty-three years of my life this was perfectly true. I was comfortable in my size eighteen jeans, in my sequined hijab at the mosque and a sequined top at the club and a sequined kurta at desi events. I never worried about my future and was grateful I didn’t need to be thinking about my wedding during graduation, or when I got my first job.

I’m painfully shy around men but it never bothered me, because I wasn’t expected to date. Good Indian girls don’t date. Good Muslim girls don’t date. Fat Women Who Hate Themselves don’t date either.

What was the point when I was going to find someone through the time-honored tradition of an arranged marriage, my mother proudly picking out a man who would fulfill all my tepid Mills & Boons dreams? It was expected. It was safe. It was all I knew.

But twenty-four has been a very weird year.

Suddenly all my friends are coupled up, my younger cousins are making their way to marital bliss, my colleagues’ sexcapades are up for discussion after every weekend and my cushion has slowly dissipated. All the other sisters — the sexually clueless, the casually repressed, the cheerfully chaste — they’ve been married off one by one. All my other friends have fully functional romantic lives with the support and encouragement of the societies they come from. All the other Muslim single women I meet have waved off their repressive shackles, explored their sexuality and have embraced their independence.

Somewhere within this spectrum I lie waiting.

The truth is the waiting is isolating AF. I don’t know what I want I just know all the things I don’t want.

1. I don’t want to wait anymore.
2. I don’t want to wait to lose weight to meet the one.
3. I don’t want to wait for the stars to align and for the perfect rishta to come my way.
4. I don’t want to wait for a man who doesn’t know me or anything about me to come, assess me and decide my future.

The truth is also that I just don’t know where to start. My friends tell me I should be open to dating, I should join Tinder, I should befriend more men. A direct harsh quote from someone I love: “None of your friends is ever going to set you up with anyone unless you change it up, you’re too awkward around guys.”

Which sounds logical, but I don’t know how to wave off twenty-four years of believing life should be one way and then switch sides and be another way. To be part of the dating scene as an adult. To grapple with abstinence, to risk rejection, to risk being fodder for gossip. To kiss.

A part of me feels like I missed the boat and it’s getting too late and with every day, and every week, and every month, and every pound I haven’t lost, it grows, strangling the part of me that drove around listening to love songs believing my time would come. I’m in a no man’s land where I don’t fit into the Halal crew, but am too weird for the “Chill” crowd.

Even now, a small part of me believes. Believes in waiting for “the one,” in the traditions and the culture and the safety. I drank the rooh-hafza and now I just want to hold on a little bit longer, pray a little bit harder.

The isolation of these feelings is getting too heavy. This falls under the section of things that are too embarrassing to discuss with people I know. With them, I try to be the cool independent chick who’s focusing on her career and is single out of choice.

Here, with the anonymity of the interwebz, I just want to be honest.

I just want a little guidance; or if not that, then a little company.

The author lives in Dubai, and hopes to one day collaborate with Mindy Kaling.

Never Been Kissed was originally published in Muslim Women Speak on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

When I picked a communications major it was inspired by two things, the first was a love for Rory Gilmore and the other was an impatience for Math.

I didn’t care about what kind of jobs I would get, what the work would be like, what the potential industry is like in Dubai — I just went in blind. This lack of foresight wasn’t devastating because thankfully it turns out that communication is my passion. But then 4 years in, in my senior year I still barely knew what I wanted. One of our course requisites was an internship so I literally trolled through our career portal to look for magazines and applied to ALL OF THEM.

It wasn’t a lack of passion, or apathy or laziness — I just didn’t realize how much research mattered. I thought I’d major in journalism, write for a magazine and live happily after. I didn’t even know journalism majors could work in PR. I didn’t realize magazines in the UAE syndicate most of their content. I didn’t realize print media is dying and I would need to seriously reevaluate my aversion to broadcast. I didn’t imagine social media could be a full time job and more than a way to look up unattainable men.

I started out with an incredible internship at Conde Nast Traveller in Dubai. I got the outfits, the stationary, was punctual AF, quickly read as many past issues as I could and went to work. I was so overwhelmed by being part of this elite set of “grown up’s” I couldn’t look beyond that.

The first time I was published in the magazine: I took a selfie with the page I’d written; sent it to ALL my family group chats; hugged the magazine a little bit; ripped out the page. I didn’t scan it, didn’t archive it and didn’t pause to think I would need it to further my career. (BTW, this feature was actually an advertorial).

The extent of all the things I didn’t know is astounding to me now three years in. I probably would have continued being clueless if not for a really harsh reality check.

I work in the corporate communications department for a retail conglomerate and some of our work is for the founder. My first interaction with her was the worst experience of my (admittedly short) life — and as I sat there getting yelled at by this billionaire who literally employees 50,000 people and was looking at me like foot fungus I was absolutely devastated. This was the first time in my life anytime in a position of authority had expressed disappointment in me in any capacity, let alone with all the aggression of a rich and powerful bully.

I was literally the intern from the movies in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My first instinct was to take this lambasting personally. It took me a long time (too long TBH) to move past this and get some perspective on how to continue showing up at a job that felt like such a dead end. Now, six months later I feel like the only thing I could have possibly done differently was MOAR RESEARCH.

What stayed with me is that in the face of fear, for the first time in my life, my words failed me. Once my confidence was gone, so was my ability to speak. I don’t ever want to be so nakedly vulnerable in a corporate setting again and a part of me feels like if I had only read up more — studied more — I would have found the courage to use my voice.

The truth is I’m going to have to deal with bullies for the rest of my life. It’s a sad reality we all live with. The only ammo in my arsenal at this point can be more knowledge.

So now, I put in the time to read up on the mundane stuff thats not really related to the task at hand. I use clickbait to my advantage and go into google wormholes to try to get as large a picture as possible in my mind.

The downside of this is it slows me down, I have to do this research on my own time and more often than not it has no pay off.

But I sure as hell feel more confident knowing I’ve done my homework.

Like I said, getting my ass handed to me by the owner of the company I worked at was a pretty crappy experience and made me reevaluate my career. The problem is that since graduation I had moved away from my dreams of writing for the glossies, worked in a pastry kitchen for a bit, and eventually ended up in corporate hell. I had no idea what I wanted anymore, I just knew that this wasn’t it. I’m still looking for a new job, I’ve been on thirteen interviews so far, some of which were real options and most of which weren’t. The biggest challenge in this whole scenario is I don’t really know what I want. It’s really awkward when you can list out all the things you don’t want but have no clue what will work for you. No amount of soul searching was getting me anywhere until a friend of mine in conversation told me to find someone who’s job I could live with.

Find people within your field who inspire you.

It’s so basic. I know how basic it is, trust me, but it helped me SO MUCH. I now have a list of people within the industry who’s jobs I like and I now alternate my time between stalking them and trying to emulate their career trajectory. It just helped me feel a little bit less lost, and a little bit more purposeful. You need to be in the midst of a full on quarter life crisis to understand how much of a lifeline that feeling can be.

There’s a lot of other things I’ve learned in the last couple years that were sometimes hard to swallow, but these are the biggest things I felt stupid for not figuring out sooner. These are the things I should have known before I graduated.

More no-brainers I’ve picked up on:

1. Have an interview? Take a copy of your CV.
2. Always write Thank You emails after an interview.
3. Figure out what the agenda of a meeting is before you walk in.
4. Make notes. You’ll never need them — you probably can’t even read them. but always. make. notes.
5. Don’t cry at work. Cry in the washroom, cry in your car, cry behind the building in the awkward alley where people smoke. Just hold it in when you’re in the actual office.
6. Don’t tell everyone how much you hate your job because six months later when you’re still at the job you hate you now have the added pressure of everyone else knowing how miserable you are.
7. Don’t start drinking coffee at regular intervals. It’s cute at first until it’s too late and you’re addicted.
8. Ditto for smoking.
9. Never organize a cute birthday surprise for a colleague. NEVER. If you really love them figure it out after hours. Don’t be the birthday chick it is THE WORST.

My take on corporate life: don’t expect Devil Wears Prada, it’s not Shonda Land, it’s really not Suits, and it really kills me to say this but it’s not The Bold Type. I think the closest to reality would be The Office — but even thats a stretch.