Daria Malek

I've been MIA for a while. It's true. I am sorry.

However, I had a lot of big things happen to me lately. I've opened up my own media and content creation business, as well as getting engaged!

During my PT time, I've done a lot of scrolling as research. There are so many different types of content out there, and some do better than others, but why?

I have taken on a world where our digital presence increasingly shapes how others perceive us—and how we perceive ourselves—developing a clear online personality isn’t just a branding exercise. It’s an act of clarity. Whether you’re building a business, advancing a career, or simply wanting to express yourself more intentionally, discovering your online personality helps you show up consistently, confidently, and authentically.

But what exactly is an online personality? Simply put, it’s the tone, voice, values, and visual style you project across digital platforms. It’s the “you” people meet when they read your posts, watch your videos, or interact with your content.

Here’s how to find it.

Before you decide how to express yourself online, take inventory of who you are in real life. Ask yourself:

How would friends describe you in three words?

In conversations, are you more thoughtful and measured, or energetic and animated?

What topics do you naturally gravitate toward?

Your online personality should be an extension of your offline one—not an invented character. The goal is alignment. People who know you in person shouldn’t be surprised by the “you” they experience online.

Your online personality will look different depending on what you want it to accomplish.

Without a clear purpose, your online presence can feel scattered. When your “why” is clear, your personality naturally falls into shape.

Values are the backbone of an authentic online presence. They guide what you talk about, what you avoid, how you interact with your audience, and the energy you project.

Many people try to define their online voice before they’ve ever posted a thing. In reality, your voice often emerges through the process of sharing—not before it.

Pay attention to what feels natural, not forced. Notice what resonates with your audience—but more importantly, what resonates with you. A sustainable online personality is one you can show up with consistently without feeling like you’re acting.

And never...ever...be a copycat.

Remember: there's a difference between being inspired by one's content, and completely copying it, word for word, style for style.

It’s useful to study creators, professionals, or influencers you admire—but only as sources of inspiration, not templates. When you find yourself thinking “I want to sound like them,” dig deeper: What specifically appeals to you? Their confidence? Their clarity? Their wit? Their structure?

Extract the quality—not the style—and translate it into your own voice.

Your online personality isn’t a fixed identity—it’s a living one. As you grow, your voice will evolve. The content that felt right a year ago might feel misaligned today. That’s not inconsistency; that’s progress.

Give yourself permission to adjust your tone, refine your interests, and evolve your presence over time. Authenticity is not about staying the same—it’s about staying true.

Growing up, my mom had a routine for me from the second I came home from school all the way to bedtime. This routine was planned out by the minute, and on some occasions, she had a timer present to help me distinguish how long an hour feels versus thirty minutes.

I don't give my mother enough credit when it comes to the way she raised me, and as I grew older, I wanted to analyze her parenting techniques to get a better understanding as to how different parents truly do raise different kids.

Having a strict routine like such might sound like a military drill (my mother was also a bootcamp instructor for some time as well), however it's unbelievable how much discipline it instills into children, as well as teaching them about punctuality and time management.

And given the recent trend of "time blindness," this would be an amazing technique to teach children, even as young as three or four years old. This especially helped me when I started learning time in school and was able to understand that if the big hand goes around less than in a whole circle, it was thirty minutes rather than the hour, since I had already known how much shorter thirty minutes had felt.

Although my mother had raised me to be extremely punctual and live life on a strict routine, I also wondered why some nights, I wasn't asleep at nine like I normally was, and instead was laying on two chairs stuck together in a restaurant or on a pile of coats in someone's home.

The more I studied it, the more I realized the most important skill to teach your child as they are growing up is leniency.

I elaborate more, in chapter thirteen of my upcoming book, "How to be a PAIRent," on how having a balance between routine and leniency helps build resourceful, quick thinking children.

Here's a scenario:

You have taken your child to a get together, that naturally, will go past their bedtime. They start getting tired and they begin to nag or fuss about being sleepy and wanting to go to bed.

You can either: leave early, apologize to the guests, and leave the party early to put your child to bed or:

You can tell your child: "That's okay honey. If you are tired, you can go lay down on the couch and sleep there. We will be home soon."

Before you sit there and call me "heartless" for not "putting the child first," let me explain to you why the second option is much better:

Selfless Parenting Is Not The Way:

Of course it's important to be selfless when you are raising a child, you naturally do become selfless as a parent, however it's important to understand that by giving into your children's wishes consistently, it teaches them that "mommy and daddy play by my rules." Giving children control, when they quite literally don't know what they are doing (they are kids), can lead to chaos because not only will they feel responsible for everything, they also expect everything to be done their way - and what happens when the parents can't provide that? This is not a healthy thought for a child to get used to as it makes your job as a parent much more difficult, and it actually diminishes the chances of children actually being more expansive and creative which leads me to my next point:

2. It Diminishes Resourcefulness

This is the big one! If you give in to your child's every thought and not put them in a difficult position, that child will not be able to learn the skill of resourcefulness. If you ask your child: "can you find a quiet place to rest until mommy and daddy finish speaking," they need to be able to put together: "couch in living room + away from adults = I can go rest there and sleep." This also teaches kids to take initiative and be independent, rather than constantly reliant on adults including future teachers and bosses. They need to understand that sometimes, things don't go as planned and we need to use what we have and problem solve; which is one of the most important skills you can teach your children.

3. Understanding Empathy

Bouncing off point number one, sometimes parents need to have fun too. Putting your kids in control means that the parents no longer have any and that's when the family dynamic falls apart. However, it's also important to understand how, just like their parents are understanding, they need to be understanding to their parents and think with empathy. "My parents work really hard and they are having a lot of fun. I can sleep on the couch while they enjoy themselves." And although this is something that grows overtime, you need to be firm with your request: "mommy/daddy is speaking to the other adults right now, please go lay on the couch and rest until we are done." Remember: just because you have a child does not mean that you do not have a life outside of them. It's okay to be a little selfish with your time, while having your children's best interest at heart.

4. Eliminating Anxiety

Normally, when children are used to the same routine every single day, they don't really expand outside of their routine as they are out of touch with change and unable to process it. Sometimes, it's important to sit with your child and explain to them: "we do (said task) this way, but sometimes we might have to do it this way and when we might have to do it this way, this is how we do it." Think of teaching children like an equation - it's literally how their brain processes things. If they are continuously stuck to a repetitive routine, they will be addressed with anxiety when they are put in a situation where that routine does not apply. This is extremely important for kids to learn growing up, as it will allow them to use their problem solving skills (learnt above) to utilize other aspects of the situation rather than become anxious and scared since they have stepped out of the four walls of the routine they already know. Because, let's be real - there are going to be more than a few times when you're in a situation where you can't put your kid to sleep at the exact same time every night and sometimes, they shouldn't be. Forcing a child to sleep at 8 when they are not ready to is actually more harmful than good.

Remember, being a parent takes a lot of time, effort and patience however, sometimes the children need to come to terms with the wants and needs of the parents which is why I like to call it a PAIR-ent.

Just because your children are your children does not mean they don't deserve the same amount of respect, trust and affection as you and just because you are their parent, it does not mean that you need to succumb to every single emotion, want and need of your children.

And if you're hopping on the "let kids be kids" bandwagon, understand that you do not have to take my advice however - raising your kids and shaping them into adults who can be happy and successful in their lives, literally starts from day one (tummy time happens even though they don't want tummy time to happen).

Parenting is all about balance - you need to be able to teach your children the reality of being human. People make mistakes, plans change, people's wants and needs change - and that's okay.

I am an only child, born in Canada, to two parents who immigrated from Iran in their early 20's.

My parents came to Canada in 1994, not knowing a word of English, and quickly learned that, if you want to get anywhere in life, they must learn to adapt to this Western ideology.

My mum went to school to fulfill her dream of being a nurse and my father, who must be the most resourceful man I know, had gone through multiple career changes before building his successful business.

I was born a few years later, in 1997, and I was immediately labelled a "Canadian."

In school, we were taught that we were "Canadians," and we learnt the history of Canada and celebrated "Canadian" Thanksgiving and learnt about Victoria Day, which is a "Canadian" holiday. All proper practice; we need to learn about the country that some of us migrated to, others born in, however I grew up celebrating things like Iranian New Year (Nowruz), the Winter Solstice (Shabe-Yalda) and Nature's Day (13-Be Dar) and I always wondered why I had to celebrate these things and other kids didn't.

As a child, it was quite annoying how my family insisted that we celebrate these Iranian traditions and take them seriously. I probably just saw it as another day to get off school.

Quickly after that, I realized that this diminishing of culture had turned children into dense, shallow young adults - and after the devastating events of September 2001, the mentality of these uneducated, uncultured young adults turned into racism.

Although, I use the word "racism" because I couldn't find a better word that defined lazy, uncultured inertia.

Because the truth is, children are not racist, but they've been taught that this bland, Westernized ideology is the norm and anything outside of that is odd or strange - this includes the colour of someones skin, the religious dressings, the languages they speak, the food they eat, the events they celebrate.

When I opened up to my mother about this, she said:

"How will you ever know who you are if you don't know where you came from."

I responded:

"What do you mean? I was born in Canada - that makes me Canadian!"

Then, my mother said something to me that stuck for life. She said:

"Each egg inside a woman's body goes back three generations-"

She's referring to the idea that that "prenatal exposure has the potential to directly impact three generations," as explained by epidemiologist Barbara Cohn, principal investigator of the CHDS. "Unlike males, who make sperm throughout life, females are thought to be born with all the eggs they will ever produce. They include the mother (known as the F0 generation), the fetus (F1 generation), and, if the fetus is a girl, all her immature egg cells—any of which may one day become the F2 generation." To put it in simpler terms, you were created inside your mother while your mother was still inside your grandmother.

She continued:

"Your grandmother wasn't born in Canada and neither was I. You were in a different country well before you were in Canada."

And that's when it hit me: the most heartbreaking thing for an immigrant parent is watching a part of them, they should have indented in their children, fade out into a foreign ideology.

How are your parents supposed to guide, teach and raise you in a language they don't know how to speak?

I realized why my parents spent so much time, put so much effort and worked so hard to learn a language that was foreign to them but, also made sure I learnt Farsi fluently: they knew that one day, growing up in an English speaking country, I wouldn't be able to understand their guidance in Farsi because all I spoke, all I learnt, was English.

Do you know how difficult it must be to translate everything that you are into something that is so foreign?

There are children in school being bullied for knowing another language! They are being bullied for being able to adapt another culture into their lives; for having the ability to appreciate another culture.

There are parents, who themselves, forget where they came from!

There are parents who no longer appreciate the guidance of their elders because they do not fit into their Western norms!

And most importantly, there are children who disregard their parents and their background to fit in to a society that diminishes everything that's "different."

My parents love for their country made me want to explore my heritage and fall in love with where I came from. And once I fell in love with my own culture and my own roots, I found the ability to actively fall in love with other cultures, languages, literature, music - because my parents taught me that there is beauty in every culture, despite was the media and other people say about it.

Imagine how much of a deeper love you can have for another person if you know about their roots, their cultural values, communicate with them in their own language, celebrate their holidays; you are celebrating such a larger part of them. You are celebrating the first aspect that made them who they are.

Everyone asks me why I speak so many languages and I never had a confident answer until today.

I wanted to learn as many languages as I possibly could so I could communicate with the hearts of the people who escaped their own country to give their children a better life.

I wanted to learn as many languages as I possibly could so I could help that immigrant at the store who was having a hard time communicating with the cashier.

I wanted to learn as many languages so I could understand what they are truly trying to say rather than a rough translation because there are so many beautiful, poetic words and phrases that you just can't translate.

I watched my parents struggle to make sure they keep me connected to my culture in a world where they try to rip it apart from you. When my parents said they wanted me to fall in love with myself, they wanted me to fall in love with all of me; generations in the past. They wanted me to love myself as that little egg that was inside my grandmother travelling from village to village in Iran because my grandfather was high up in the Air Force command and fought in the war.

And if you think about it, the mixed children of this generation have the advantage of learning about two cultures rather than one.

And you know what the hardest part about this is?

In order for us to learn all this once we're in our twenties, our families had to give up a part of what makes them them. They had to leave their family, their soil, to give us the life they couldn't have.

And for my Iranians: our families need to sit back and watch, all the way from another country, while their entire identity is stripped from them, their families and their soil. They have to watch the Iranian youth take to the streets and sacrifice themselves for their soil.

Where is our honour as a generation?

You learn so much about yourselves when you learn about the culture you were brought into. I promise, everything will start making sense and you will learn to love a part of you goes so deep, it can never be reversed.

And that love is so unconditional.

Mom, dad...thank you. Thank you for teaching me who I really am. I am sorry for all the hardships you have gone through. I am so proud of you guys and I promise that I will make you proud and I will make all of your hardships worth it. I love you.

When I was 16, I read Mansfield Park for the first time.

There is a quote in that book, where Edmund and Franny are talking about Mr. Crawford, where Edmund says:

"He will make you happy Fanny; I know he will make you happy; but you will make him everything."

Interestingly enough, in this context, I always thought Edmund was speaking of Fanny's qualities as a woman - how she supplies "a woman, who firm as a rock in her own principles, has a gentleness of character so well adapted to recommend them."

I began my Jane Austen journey with this book, but I read it twice in a row because of that quote. It just wasn't making sense to me.

I read Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion (three times, actually), Emma, Sense and Sensibility, Northanger Abbey - even Lady Susan - in order to see just what Ms. Austen was going on about. Throughout this journey, she became by far my favourite writer - but I just couldn't figure it out.

Since I was on this journey to figure this out, I went through many life changes romantically that had caused me to believe that my heart just wasn't big enough no matter how much I gave. No matter how many times my heart broke, my father always told me: "patch it up and get back out there."

I never knew why he would be convincing me to go out on a date - it was quite strange, especially in our culture, for a father to encourage her daughter to meet new people again after a bad heartbreak.

A particular time was in December of 2022, where I had reconnected with someone from my past. He had approached me and asked me to go out sometime.

Although I wanted to, I had closed myself off to every single male-being in the world at that time. My fear had driven me more into my career, into my independence, and I had given up my dream of falling in love and having a family.

At dinner, my mother brought it up and I expressed how I felt about it. My father was silent until after his plate of dinner was finished. He chewed, swallowed and stopped me in the the middle of my side conversation with my mother and said - word for word - "I read some of that book that you won't stop reading (I think he was talking about Pride and Prejudice) and, you know my English isn't great (my father is an immigrant) but if I know anything about my daughter, it's that you read these things because keep down you believe in a love like this."

And he was right. Although I have always been daddy's little princess, I never failed to hear the hard truth from my father. But what really resonated with me was when he said this:

"I know I have raised you to be strong on your own, to be smart, confident, independent and to stand on your own two feet without anyone's help but there is no better feeling than finding someone, who loves you enough, to let you put some of that weight on them. And it's okay to have a partner to help you do that. You don't need to go through life alone. Love is a beautiful thing and I know you don't want to be alone for the rest of your life like you say you do."

My father has always been a man of few words, so when he said this, it struck a chord in me. And so, two days later on December 30th, I agreed to come see you. And to this day - my father always lets me hear about how it was his doing.

But see, it kind of wasn't. I was already thinking about you everyday; looking forward to seeing what cute name you called me whenever you said good morning.

We both went on vacation at the same time, and I caught myself wanting to tell you everything that happened every day and when your plane got delayed and you got stuck at the airport - I felt worried about you.

But in my head, I kept telling myself that I don't even know you, or it was too soon for me to feel this way about you. But I grew up in a house where emotions were never hidden; your heart never lied and everyone was a great person until proven otherwise. And yes, this was the reason why I had taken so many blows to the heart, but my mother always said: "your heart is a muscle (it's an organ, but okay mom), you will have days where you pull it because of your bad form and it hurts like hell - but you massage that knot right out and get back to training or else you lose all the progress you've ever accomplished."

I grew up in a very conservative home given my dads career. I had to always watch how I acted, how I dressed, what I said, be respectful, well mannered and polite, oh and God forbid I made noise while biting into a cucumber (my mother literally used to make me walk around with books on my head for 15 minutes a day to correct my posture) so naturally, when I first met you, I felt like I had to act the same way I always did - reserved, quiet and conscious.

But I physically couldn't - I felt so safe to explore my emotions around you. Your positivity and outgoingness brought out my inner self, a little girl who was bullied; tossed in garbage bins, tripped, slapped, shoved into lockers just for being herself but she didn't flinch. She felt safe with you. She didn't feel judged or scared.

And for the first time, in what felt like forever, I was able to be myself around someone outside of my close knit circle.

I felt comfortable vocalizing my feelings and my opinions, and I was so happy to hear later on that that's what made you know.

And although I never admitted it, I knew too. I knew when I saw your reaction when you picked up that shirt and I responded "erm...that one?" That smile on your face; you knew you had reeled me right in with that charm.

But little did you know, I took the bait.

And as our relationship progressed, I was opening up to so many emotions - some of which I didn't even know - and I didn't know how to deal with them. I didn't want you to be away from me for a second, I didn't want to share you with others - this strange, so strange selfishness perturbed within in me that I never felt before. I didn't know what was happening. Suddenly, other women, who were seemingly interested in you, seemed to bother me. I've never in my life felt any emotion of jealousy towards others, I didn't need to - and I felt so alone because I didn't know what was happening to me before. I never told you for months, because I didn't want to burden you with my emotions - but you still loved me.

No matter what I did, no matter how many emotions I felt, or how many bad days I had - you still loved me.

And I know you probably didn't think I saw it - but I did.

You begged me to let you take on the emotional burden I was feeling; telling me that I didn't have to do it alone, that you want to take my stresses and put them on your shoulders - words that I have told everybody and never heard myself my entire life - and my father's words echoed in my head.

I felt safe enough to be vulnerable with you. I trusted you and suddenly just being in your warm embrace took every single thing weighing me down right off. I felt like as a feather with you and for the first time in my life - I cried in front of a boy.

Before this, there were only 3 people who have seen me cry in my adulthood, two of which were my parents so it made sense when I panicked as the first tear fell out of my eyes.

I didn't want you to see this side of me; this emotional wreck who doesn't even know why she feels the way that she feels until the day that you opened up to me.

I know you weren't comfortable doing so, but you did it. You felt safe enough to be vulnerable with me in that moment and put your feelings out on the table in front of me. I don't know if you realized that you did it but you said it yourself: "I've never been in love before."

Well baby, neither have I.

I quickly learned that although you may be madly in love with someone, you must learn how to love them. The reason why I was feeling the way I was was because I was getting ready to put all my faith, my life, my trust, my privilege, my pride, my future, my confidence, my mind, my body, my soul - everything - into you. I was getting ready to give it all to you.

And this is how I was coping with the fear of getting hurt.

But without words, without saying a single word to me, you reassure me in ways that you can't imagine. And that warm day in June, when I met your beautiful family, I knew that I was confident enough to tell you those three, very special words - but to my surprise:

You said them first.

My mother always said:

A good relationship doesn't only bring you happiness. It brings you positive connections, great company, it teaches you to be a better, stronger person. You know you are in a good relationship when you can learn from your partner, when you make new friendships through your partner, when your partner brings you growth, when they inspire you to connect with your passions - and you better be sure that you do the same for them.

And slowly I realized that through meeting you - I made a new friend, I got a promotion, I put pen to paper after months of writer's block, I went to the gym everyday. You made me want to be the best version of myself because I wouldn't dare let you love a half-assed version of me. Even though I knew you would, it just felt like an injustice.

And through that, I reminded myself what I was capable of; I reminded myself of who I was.

And that's when that quote began making sense to me - all it was missing was just one word:

"He will make you happy Fanny; I know he will make you happy; but you will make him [your] everything."

You gifted me happiness, security, protection, trust, care, simplicity, effort, affection, reassurance and so much more and in the process, I made you my everything.

I made you my entire world. I gave you emotions and moments that I could never give to anyone else. I made you the first thing I think about when I wake up and the first thing I think about when I fall asleep. I made you, your safety, your happiness and your well being my priority. I made your success my everything.

I made you my everything.

And although there may be times, where both of us get our emotions intertwined a little too rough - not a second goes by where we feel ungrateful about everything we do for eachother; for all the time and effort we put down for eachother; for the respect that we give eachother.

And when you feel like giving up, just know that I am so proud of you. Even when I’m not there, I will be there as a shadow standing right behind you. I will be there when you’re anxious, nervous, stressed, frustrated; just know that I am there in your shadow; in your heart. And even when you feel like you’ve had enough, and even when you feel like you want to drop everything and run - just know that I am and always have been so proud of you and all you’ve done. I may not have been there in person to watch you, but I’ve watched from afar and I’ve been cheering you on every second of your life as I watch you get closer and closer to what you deserve. And I pray that you get it.

And I pray that God watches over you when I can’t and he keeps you safe and motivated - you can do whatever you set your mind to. You are smart, strong and so driven. I believe in you; I always have and I always will.

I promise to never stop being the woman you fell in love with; only make her better and I promise to never fall out of love with you and the best version of yourself you want to be.

Happy birthday baby, I love you.

Forever.

Until the end of time.

Until my last breath.

I'm going to take a second to let everyone get their initial critiques out before I continue.

What started off as a short story, inspired by a family member's young marriage, turned into a critique about the modern day feminist - without me knowing, of course.

I wrote this short story in 2020 and as I was clearing out my archives for content, I came across this story with a hundred twists and turns and emotions and heartbreak and I found myself shedding a tear wondering "why did I write this?"

Dare I say it was quite culty - this story is about 5 different women; one who was dealing with a nasty divorce and had lost virtually everything she had, a woman who was dealing with the loss of her father, a woman with no family becoming a part of a family she wasn't expecting, a non-fertile woman struggling to conceive after 3 miscarriages, and a self made, free-spirited woman who experimented with different men and different drugs. In this story, they all meet in a counselling group after given different ultimatums and plan revenge on the people who caused them this emotional trauma.

Although all these women were all so different, it seemed as if they all had one thing in common - they all. had aid to their emotional troubles right in front of them but, rather than utilizing eachother, they fed into the classic feministic stereotype that women don't need help.

Interestingly enough, I couldn't contain my emotions when I read my own work and I had realized that I felt ashamed to expose my sadness and my anger because it was a sign of weakness. And in today's society, women weren't allowed to be weak.

I was prompted to take refuge in my mother - my aid. It felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. In a spur of sadness, I had exposed virtually everything that had upset me in the last 3 months to my mother in a matter of seconds and after a moment of confusion, she responded "well, why didn't you tell me before?"

Because society told me that I need to be as strong as a man...and men don't cry.

How ridiculous does that sound?

Initially the title of this short story was "Don't Mess With A Heartbroken Woman" but, that's not what the story was about. It wasn't about heartbreak but about a loss. A loss of the ability to be ourselves.

I decided to take this story and turn it into a screenplay, inspired by an Iranian film my parents watched, and change a few things.

These women never meet. There's no counselling, there's no support group - but they are right in front of eachother, in plain sight, going through similar things but they do not make the effort to put themselves out there enough to find aid.

I put a supportive person in their lives - their partner, their family, their best friend, their neighbour, hell, even the old nonna who used to babysit them when they were younger (that was an homage to our old Italian neighbour who passed away last year).

I've made the conflicts they are in a little more ridiculous. This was because you may not think that what someone is going through validates their emotions, but it may be difficult for them. You don't know what someone is going through? And who the hell are we as society to tell them they are not able to feel upset about it? If a child drops their ice cream on the ground and cries - who are you to tell that child they shouldn't be crying? That child is crying because they are experiencing the loss of something that was in their life for a short period of time, but brought them joy, and now it's gone - and who are you to tell them that they shouldn't be sad? You may not have had an emotional connection to that ice cream cone, and as ridiculous as it sounds, they did.

Enough is enough - we need to stop judging eachother about what we suffer, or how we chose to cope with that suffering. Only that person will know what and who they have emotional connections to and society can't dictate that for them.

These women are never portrayed as weak. It's meant to frustrate the audience that way. They're not doing anything wrong - they're just crying. Why is expressing emotion seen as hysterical? And why are women seen as hysterical creatures?

Do I think that we need to cry about every single thing that ever happens and whine about it - no, absolutely not. I think we as HUMANS, not women or men, but as humanity, need to understand that there is strength in us to fight through the toughest times but that doesn't mean we can't be sad about them.

[SPOILER ALERT]

However, the point of this play is very simple: destruction comes when society and judgement come in the way of nature. Charles Darwin said a small number of basic, universal emotions have evolved in humans and animals because emotions help us to survive.

"To help us survive"

We need to feel to survive.

And that's why, I paid homage to one of my favourite playwrights, William Shakespeare, and pulled a Hamlet - ultimately killing everyone in the story.

Because not only does containing our emotions ruthlessly murder our ability to feel empathy, or just murder our ability to feel, but it also ruthless murders every single relationship with others and ourselves that we have.

Every person's brain has an amygdala; a pear shaped structure deep in the brain that integrates emotions and emotional behaviour and the only proven way to remove that emotional stress is to cry - let it out, be sad.

After reading this, go ahead and Google "benefits of crying" and see all the psychologists who promote it.

And yet we still think it's weak to cry?

Take pride in being able to explore your emotions. Take pride in knowing what you are feeling. This is such an emotional strength. Don't be afraid to show others, and yourself, that you are a human being.

And take the aid of your peers, your family, your partner. And show them you appreciate them being there for you.

I think my boyfriend and my family have seen me cry 12 times in the last week for no reason but just the simple act of being vulnerable in front of someone else bonds you like other.

"You need to be strong first in order to be vulnerable in front of others"

It’s New Year’s Eve. 

I woke up this morning, a little later than I normally do, and as I laid in bed, I aimlessly scrolled through my phone at everyone’s “New Year’s Resolution” posts. I thought to myself what made today different than any other “new year.” Time goes by, years change...what makes this one different?

I got up, brushed my teeth, and prepared to shower but, just before I got into the steaming abyss, something in my subconscious had pulled me back. I shut off the water and grabbed my yoga mat almost immediately and began my routine like I do every morning. What was strange was that my body had never craved the peace that my morning yoga brings like this. 

My whole routine felt different this time around, but nothing out of the ordinary. That is, until I got into my Upwards Salute pose. My brain, like a rolodex, began flipping through different thoughts and wishes. Without knowing, I began vocalizing them; reciting them like poetry, over and over again. 

I parted my palms ever so slightly and I could feel pure heat in-between them. I was shocked, as this had never happened before in my life, but rather than my heart beat profusely...it was calm. My mind was calm. My body was calm. 

My voice became more audible. The words practically flowing out of my lips like a wave.

I manifest wealth, wisdom and success. 

I manifest my art and writing will bring much success and profit. I manifest motivation and inspiration for my art. 

I manifest that dream job I want. I manifested that so hard.

I manifest love, in lovers and friendships, and I manifest health and wellness for all my friends and family who give me love. 

I manifest knowledge, enlightenment and safe travels. 

I manifest health and strength for my mind, my body and my heart. I manifest health and strength for the minds, hearts and bodies of my friends and family.

And slowly, the tips of my fingers began to tingle, moving down to my wrists, and before I knew it, my entire hand was tingling. As my lips moved with my manifestations, something so strange, yet so beautiful happened. 

I began to cry.

My cheeks soaked in tears and just like clockwork, I recited these sentences.

I manifest that, not only my body and my mind, but my spirit, will be strong enough that nothing will ever break it.

I manifest good company. I manifest positivity in influences. 

I manifest independence mentally and financially. 

I manifest happiness. Pure happiness. 

I manifest growth in my family. I manifest life. 

I manifest discipline.

i manifest balance. 

I manifest kindness.

I manifest authenticity and sincerity. 

I manifest safety. 

I manifest faith. Not only in a higher power, but in myself.

And this is the sentence that triggered those tears into pure sobs: 

I manifest peace. I manifest peace. I manifest peace. 

I manifest peace for myself, but also for people in other countries who are fighting for theirs. 

And as I brought myself down into a Uttanasana, I let my body melt into the puddle of tears my eyes were creating. 

It was so strange to me, as this has never happened before, but it made me realize something.

My entire life I wanted the perfect body, the high paying job, the extravagant life, the expensive vacations, the nice clothes but, it had never occurred to me that perhaps, this is what I am being told to like. 

I wanted these manifestations so bad, that I became overly emotional for them. Deep down in my subconscious, I wasn’t going to the gym because I wanted to be skinny. I was going because I wanted to be healthy. 

Within that forty minutes, which felt like seconds, I became vulnerable to my own body. I had spoken my own truth to myself. 

And this changed the concept of a “New Year’s Resolution” for me. Continue to do those things you said you would. Continue to make those changes you said you’d make. But change the outcomes and reasons you do them for. 

Life is all about perspective. And I realized that when I became a part of the fight for Mahsa Amini and all the people fighting for their peace and freedoms in Iran. I complain about the hours that I work at my job, I complain about how tired I am all the time and not once did I think that I could have been on the street being murdered for things for basic human rights; human rights that I have in this life, but I am not grateful for, all because I worked until 8pm tonight. 

Or what about the children who are going through poverty? The people in certain parts of the world who have no food to eat who are sick? And here I am, complaining about a little IBS stomach cramp. 

And what about the men and women who are on the streets, doing thousands of things they don’t want to do, only to provide for their children? And I have the audacity to complain about not liking my job? 

Our New Year’s Resolution, collectively, should be to be more grateful and thankful for what we have rather than what we don’t have. 

I shared my manifestations with everyone this year. And to everyone reading this, I manifesting all the same for you. 

Manifest everything you’ve ever wanted this year. 2023 will be the year for everyone. I literally felt it. 

Happy New Year, everyone! 

I don’t know everything. 

I’ve dabbled in eight types of psychology in the lifespan of this blog; trying to find the answers to all the questions. How do we effectively teach students with special needs? How does childhood neglect effect long term relationships? What is the correlation between physical and mental wellness? 

If you have been an avid reader of this blog for a while, those titles may be very familiar. There was a peak in 2019, however, where people were extremely interested in my essays about relationship psychology. My theory was that it was during the peak of COVID, and with the rise of dating apps, people were starting to forget what it was like to be in the conscious world. 

I had no problem writing about relationship psychology until June 2021, where my own relationship of almost 3 years, collapsed. I began to doubt myself; how am I going to sit here and give advice to everyone else when I didn’t know how to save my own relationship? 

And that’s when the spiral began. 

I began to doubt myself. I was tired; I had put so much time and effort into my relationship that I forgot who I was. I had lost touch with all my friends; all the people who brought out the best in me and shared my passions. And roughly eight months into being single, I sang a note. Ten months into being single, I had pulled up my old texts and put pen to paper. A year into being single, I took my aggression out on a drum kit. 

I began to fall in love with myself again. Deep and dangerously in love with myself. 

My self confidence was at a peak. I dyed my hair black. I changed up my style. I wore high heels everywhere. I didn’t leave the house without doing my hair. I wore eyeliner. I never looked at my feet when I walked. I disregarded the men who approached me. And when I walked into a room, instead of looking at everyone else in it, my eye caught a mirror instead. 

And that’s when it hit me. I was frozen in place; standing in the middle of a bar on Queen Street. This is wrong. I had forgotten what it was like to give love to someone else because I was too busy focusing on loving myself.

Just like that, I was introduced me to the biggest lesson I could learn in my life: balance. 

I had always thought I had balance in my life. I meditated twice a day, I exercised five days a week. I didn’t drink every weekend, but had my glass of wine once in a while. I didn’t eat fast food. i worked extremely hard during the week and had my fun on the weekends. I spent equal time with my family and friends. 

But that was the problem: it was all about me. 

We all go through healing phases where we focus on ourselves, however it’s important that we don’t lose sight of what it means to be considerate of others. 

I found, date after date, that I just wasn’t able to focus on anyone other than myself because I had been so focused on myself it had turned into a habit. I didn’t know how to do anything else. It was almost as if I was jealous of others getting attention from myself. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? 

You’d be surprised. 

Have you ever heard that myth about the man who fell so in love with his reflection, that he literally couldn’t take his eyes of it, and eventually died in the same spot all while staring at his reflection? This is a lovely phenomenon called Narcissism. And yes, his name was “Narcissus.” 

According to Scott Kaufman of the Scientific American, most recent research suggests that “narcissism differs significantly from self-esteem in its development, origins, consequences, and outcomes (Kaufman, 2017).” 

“The prototypical grandiose narcissist is characterized by arrogance, superiority, vanity, entitlement, exploitativeness, exhibitionism, and the incessant need for acclaim from others,” Kaufman explains. “Those scoring high on measures of self-esteem, however, tend to feel satisfied with themselves but do not necessarily see themselves as superior to others.“ 

I remember doing all those things, claiming they were for me, but not once did I feel satisfied. 

And that’s when I said screw it, and bought a last minute plane ticket, and went to Italy. The story of my trip is highly documented on this blog however, when I got back, it was the first time I had began to type out words that meant something to me. 

I had realized that when I was writing before, I was forcing myself. I didn’t actually want to write, I just wrote because I had missed doing it. I finally felt like the roadblock between me and my art was finally gone. But the truth was, that roadblock was me. And when I sat back and read through each paragraph, I felt butterflies in my stomach. Not pride, but satisfaction. I was back. 

And there are times, like today, where I question my ability to love again. For example, when I get writer’s block, I question my love for writing, even though writing is something that comes natural to me. 

But I always remember: just because something comes natural, doesn’t mean it should be constant. 

You may love someone from the bottom of your heart, but there will be times where they hurt your feelings and you’re not able to look at them. But that doesn’t mean you don’t love them, it just means that you need to find a reason to fall back in love with something.

I am done with being silent. 

I am done with tolerating the silence of others. 

My name is Daria Malek, and I am an Iranian-Canadian writer who’s art was silenced due to the control of the Iranian regime. Ironically, The Green Ney was a story of how women were silenced during the Iranian revolution, especially their art. 

Yesterday, on Saturday October 1st, over fifty thousand people had closed off Yonge Street, the longest street in the world, protesting for Mahsa Amini, and the other 83 people murdered for speaking up for their human rights. 

I am so privileged to live in a country where I, not only as a woman, but also a visibly minority, have protection beyond my rights. And as I watch my fellow Iranians in their homeland fight for theirs, it makes me wonder what am I do to with this privilege? What am I to do with the freedom of speech that I have? 

I was silenced by the Iranian regime, but that is no longer. 

Four years ago, I began writing a novel called The Green Ney, the story of an infertile American journalist in a dying marriage, who travels to Iran in January 1979 and gets stuck in the middle of the bloodshed of the Iranian Revolution with a lonely, mute orphan to care for. 

Through her journey, she met multiple women who symbolized each right that was stripped from them during the revolution. Each of these 12 women were women that I had met on my trip to Iran in 2016, spanning over the three cities that I have visited. These are real women. These are real people. 

This was my time to speak for these women who were silenced in their own dirt but, I had to face a dilemma: if I were to publish this novel, I would be banned from going back home to my country, and even put my family, including my grandparents, in harms way. 

This was three years ago. Enough is enough. It is time to speak up. 

Mahsa Amini was 22 years old when she was detained by “morality police” in Iran for not wearing her headscarf on her head correctly. Not because she had killed someone, assaulted someone, or stolen something from someone but, because she had not covered her hair to the standard of the “morality police.” How ironic that they are called “morality police” when they have no problem murdering a child because they are so weak to be worried about the hair of a women turning men on. Where are your morals?

Why are you painting our men to be so weak? So weak, that the wrists and ankles of a woman may awaken their uncontrollable sexual urges? 

Our men are better than this. Our women are more respectable than this. 

The greatest part of watching these protests was seeing the men and women come together in unison to fight for the women of Iran together. 

For Mahsa Amini, you will always be remembered as an awakening for the people and a motion for change. We will honour your name and what you did to change the world. 

Shervin Hajipour, your angelic voice and talent will be forever in our ears, singing for what you believe in, in hopes that people will listen and feel your pain and we did. 

Hadis Najafi, your courage will never be forgotten. To be so brave, beyond your years, only for them to strip you of the rest of your life. But, I hope you know that they may have taken your life but they could never take away the strength and bravery that you possessed. When I watch the video of your blonde hair going up in a ponytail, ready to fight for the land you walk on, it gives me chills - an inspiration to truly step up. 

For all the other people who were protesting or injured and murdered for speaking up: you make me proud to call myself an Iranian. We as people have a history of being headstrong and courageous. We must protect our beautiful culture, our art, our poetry, our food, our dance and everything that makes us Iranian, from the Islamic regime. They stole it from us once and it is our duty to take it back. 

What started off as a feministic fight, turned into a humanitarian revolution. 

If you have any Iranian friends, please reach out to them. Ask them how they are doing. Give them a hug and stand by them. They’re worried about their families back home; they can’t talk to them or hold them. Give back the support that we gave the rest of the world when they needed us. 

I have been wanting to complete the 3-post Toronto artist series and it definitely wasn’t hard to pick who I wanted to write about and it’s definitely safe to say: I saved the best for last. 

I have been waiting to write about this artist with a passion, because not only is his music worth talking about, but so is he. 

SOHLO is an independent Toronto artist with a fiery voice, passion for music and a story to tell an it really does come out in his music. 

Now before I continue, I had to get this off my chest. 

To others, he’s SOHLO. To me, he’s Josh. 

I wasn’t expecting to know every single person I’ve written about in this series personally, however I knew from the beginning that I wanted to write about Josh because I personally think he is probably the most underrated artist out there. 

As someone who’s been behind the curtain, and has witnessed the time, effort, blood, sweat and tears it takes to create music to his perfectionist extent, I am honestly nothing but honoured to get a chance to, not only write about him, but to call him one of my closest friends. 

So Josh, thank you, for giving me the opportunity to be a part of your amazing journey. I love you.

Okay, enough of the sappy stuff. 

Dirty Talk was released in 2021, and it was SOHLO’s independent introduction to the music world as a “sohlo” artist (haha) after going “sohlo” (I’ll stop) from his duo group, Machine Wulf. Not only was it an introduction to his independent music career, but also to what I like to call the “Funky Sohlo” phase, and holy was it catchy. 

I had the tendency to play that song whenever I was getting ready to put on that tight black dress and some eyeliner for a night out. It brought out a confident character, not only in the listener, but the artist. Music is projective, and Dirty Talk projected a man yearning for a woman’s attention who he knows is “trouble” who “everybody wants.” 

This is when I realized: SOHLO is an artist written by women. 

To be honest, I tried to compare this song to other songs by R&B artists, but it’s so difficult to put SOHLO into a single genre. It’s almost as if Stevie B, Machine Gun Kelly and The Weeknd had a gifted synth baby and just called him SOHLO. 

But in terms of male artists in this day and age, SOHLO’s lyricism takes a different term. Putting women on a positive, confident pedestal is so unique to todays day and age, especially when their bodies are being sexualized by men. But here’s the kicker: SOHLO allows women to sexualize themselves however they like, by praising their confidence and sexual freedom - and Dirty Talk expresses just that. 

The Race My Mind cover came shortly after (I just had to bring it up) and if you thought that cover was the end of SOHLO surprises, Lights Out came in early 2022 and left us all in shock. 

Literally what the hell.

This is something that was so different to “Dirty Talk” SOHLO, and what we were expecting him to create, and it was the best thing to happen in his career. Lights Out was so unapologetically real, and to tie back into sexual freedom, SOHLO talks about it like you were there.

No really, it’s really like you’re there. 

But only to change the entire tempo of the song halfway through, and just like the story of the super openly passionate relationship we were literally witnessing before our eyes, we watch it hit the fan. 

SOHLO’s take on relationships in society is so blunt, and the lyricism is so clever and here’s the kicker: he bloody raps. So not only does he have such a unique and strong voice, but we’re getting some spoken word to. 

Some of my favourite lines include: “cat’s always got your tongue unless you’ve been using it for some fun” and “play me like a playstation, late night’s turning me on.” 

As the queen of dad jokes, thank you. 

But this is an interesting take for SOHLO in terms of lyricism, where he tries an aspect of storytelling in his music. And not only does he use the lyrics to tell the story, but the elements within the music as well. 

But later in the year, is when SOHLO becomes SOHLO and everything that bloody makes him who he is. 

Before we get into Libertine, readers of the blog will remember a short story (later turned screenplay) that I had wrote called “Downtown.” It was a story of five friends who make their way into the city for a night of drinking, dancing and doing what most young people in the city do, when stumble across an underground speakeasy. That’s when everything goes horribly wrong and suddenly, someone’s dead, there’s blood everywhere and they don’t remember a thing. 

Guess what the bar was called. I’ll let you guess.

If you’re stuck, go listen to the first line of Libertine. 

Here’s a hint: it’s a literal bar on Dundas Street in Toronto. 

“Downtown, Libertine...” 

Still, no? It was the bloody Libertine. If you didn’t guess it right, I’ll give you another shot. 

Can you guess what the inspiration behind the story was? 

Not only did this song inspire me to write, what I think, is some of my best work but, it is also the emergence of SOHLO’s true style and everything that makes him the unique artist. The funky vibe, the sharp changes in tempo, the storytelling in lyricism, the sexual thematic freedom; it’ll stop you dead in your tracks. 

I also want to take it a step deeper. Libertine is defined as: “a person, especially a man, who behaves without moral principles or a sense of responsibility, especially in sexual matters.” 

This was one of things that inspired me to write Downtown the way I did, and it’s because of the way SOHLO represents his relationship with his “woman.” 

As he’s describing his feelings for his woman, he explains how he needs the “liquor to distract him” from thinking about her, or how he’s a “different person on the streets reminded of her.” 

By the end, he’s “bleeding” for her and how he’s “all alone.”

Perhaps, he’s the libertine, and his lack of moral principles got him to where he is now: alone. 

When it comes to modern day music, we never get the other side of the reckless story. Normally, male artists of this generation love to bloat about how if one woman leaves, there’s always another or there’s money to fill her place. But SOHLO shows a different aspect; the repercussions of his actions are negative and he’s accepting them. 

Maturity in music is so unheard of. But leave it to SOHLO to tell the truth: breakups suck, and there’s consequences to our actions. And that’s what Libertine is all about: you can’t fill the emptiness of a person with alcohol and money. 

Listening to SOHLO find his style, and his independence in his music was so rewarding and it inspired me to elevate myself and my art. His journey has been so inspirational, and I don’t think he truly knows how it effects his listeners.

And finally, in May of 2022, we get the bloody EP.

After Love was somewhat familiar for me for the first three songs, because I had already heard them a bunch of times as I screamed them on the way to work in the morning however, there’s two songs on that EP that made me furrow my brows. 

After Love is a track on the EP that was not the SOHLO I was used to. Although it was powerful and passionate, as most SOHLO creations are, it was extremely vulnerable which was definitely not something I was used to. It was emotional, raw and real and it almost made me feel uncomfortable - in a good way. Our generation is not used to being exposed to true emotion in music, and I’ve said the same thing about BøNES (quick shoutout to him) - it’s almost unheard of. SOHLO, who is known for his sexual thematic freedom, is suddenly talking about a very raw, emotional connection rather than a passionate, heated one. 

“Is this love, in this time,” questions the values of modern day relationships and how they’re not really relationships. “Are you still mine...” questions whether or not loyalty is even a value in modern day relationships. This song confirms that it’s okay to be confused and hurt, because “in this time,” these relationships are not normal. It’s bloody genius. 

And right when you’re getting into your feels, he hits you with Blindfold. And what a way to end an EP.

This I have to say is my favourite track on this EP because it introduces, what I like to call, SOHLO phase two: Hard SOHLO. 

This song is so overstimulating. The beat, his voice, the ad-libs, the rapping, the buildup to the heavy symbols and guitar “sohlo” (lol I wasn’t done)...it’s heavy, raw, raspy and crazy powerful. 

And what I think, is an introduction to a new phase for SOHLO, and I am crazy excited for it. 

For an artist, it is extremely difficult to get your voice heard and as soon as they get signed to a label, they’re no longer an artist, they’re a product to sell.

And that’s the beauty of SOHLO - he is so unapologetically himself, that he refuses to give the people what they want. That’s what makes him unique. 

I have a soft spot for this artist because of the way his originality inspires other people, the way it has inspired me and here’s a little story about how my connection to SOHLO started in the first place.

In December, I had gotten COVID and was quarantining at home. And as someone who is used to company always (normal for the Middle Eastern households), I used to scroll through TikTok to eliminate the crazy loneliness I was feeling. 

This is when SOHLO used to do these amazing lives where you would watch his music come to life in the studio, which is also why I have such a soft spot for Blindfold - it’s secretly because I heard “you have no substance” played on a loop for 3 hours before it was released. 

And that was it: he refused to let go of something that didn’t feel right to him. No matter how many times the viewers had told him it sounded great, he was not budging. It had to be perfect for SOHLO before it was good enough for everyone else. 

And that’s when it hit me: why am I writing for a publisher? I should be writing for me - whatever I do in my life needs to perfect for me, before it can be good enough for someone else. I will never be perfect for someone else, but I need to be perfect for me, before I can be good enough for someone else. 

This lesson was what inspired me to write stories like Downtown and give Jane’s Expose a completely different twist ending, regardless of what the publisher thought. 

So, to make it sappy again, thank you SOHLO for making me unapologetically myself through you. 

SOHLO’s music is available to stream on Spotify and Soundcloud, and you can find him on Instagram, Twitter and TikTok under the @sohloofficial handle. 

https://open.spotify.com/artist/4iKu3UecNv2eNO2peRRHt0?si=2k4zGZU5TYKN4BacxMwB4g

I had spontaneously planned a trip to Italy this summer. I had been planning this trip in my head for years. However, I had always imagined my Italy trip to be a romantic getaway, or an engaging hike with my best friend but, as you could guess by the title, I went alone. 

Why? 

Because I realized I had caught myself in a never-ending routine, in which I was constantly going in circles, and I realized the only way to find myself, truly, was to put myself in the most uncomfortable positions on my own - and deal with them. First stop: the plane. 

My fear of planes was something that made me hesitate quite a bit for this trip. The emetophobia was one of them - the fear of being sick, and the plane was like a hotspot for that. However, as I looked back at my parents waving me goodbye at the airport, I realized it wasn’t that at all. 

My fear of planes had sprouted from the idea that the people I love will lose me without knowing how I truly feel about them. My journey had begun right there. 

Eventually the plane landed in Rome. Immediately, the homesickness kicked in, I watched as families reunited in tears at the pickup, people helping their loved ones into taxis - not a care in the world. And then there was me, all alone, struggling to understand a language I only knew two words of (you don’t want to know what they are). I started to feel a little hesitant, but I realized that this was an opportunity for me to learn what it felt to take a risk. You will never  be stuck in the safe end in life and you must learn to be strong learn how to deal with it on your own. So, I swallowed all the fear building up in the back of my throat and got into the taxi, prepared to take on anything this trip threw at me. 

And that’s when I took the first steps out into the boiling streets of Rome. 

Rome

Though there was a sense of familiarity, I felt so lost. I didn’t know where to start. Immediately I had begun to feel homesick - I missed my family, I missed feeling like I knew where I was, what I was doing.

I had realized that my separation anxiety had started setting in; my mum had left for vacation after I had, and wouldn’t have been around for another month by the time I get back. She would have missed my birthday. I realized that this was a problem, I had to get over it. I preached so much about independence, the ability to feel comfortable in myself, which I was - but a part of me craved affection and companionship. And since I wasn’t able to achieve that through a romantic relationship, I glued myself to my very supportive, affectionate family.

I felt the heat of a single tear trace down my cheek as I stood in the middle of the Pantheon. I wasn’t sure why, my emotions were all over the place.

Mainly because it had finally settled in that I had made it.

Italy had been a dream for me. I always used to say that I was going to do it, but as soon as I purchased that non refundable ticket and flushed out my savings on this trip, I had realized that this was real, this was happening; but it hadn’t settled in until that moment.

My trip to the Vatican was something I will never forget. Regardless of my religion, the story that that place tells restored my faith. Not only in God, but in life. Standing in the Sistine Chapel, looking up at the masterpiece above my head, I had realized there was so much more to life than work, routine and money. You can’t tell a story through your job.

Neglecting my art had made me feel empty and contorted. I no longer had faith in my art. But knowing how long Michelangelo spent in the Sistine Chapel, painting to tell a story made me realize that all art is disciplined. You need to force yourself to tell your story, because years down the line, people will still be reading it.

I stared at the ceiling, taking in every detail, every stroke; and I put together my own story. That’s the beauty of art and writing, it’s all subjective. I watched letters emerge next to eachother in my head, backspaced, writing again. The gears were shifting but, I hadn’t realized what my story was just yet.

Florence

This is where my real story begun.

Stefano, a lovely older gentlemen, checked me into my suite (which luckily had wifi, unlike Rome) and when I walked in, I saw the two large windows right in front of me. I dropped my bags and immediately went to open them. Looking down at the group of people, crying out in laughter, a couple romancing on the corner of the square; it was magical. I had everything I needed right in front of me. And for the first time during the duration of this trip, I didn’t feel lonely.

In university, I had taken an Italian Masterworks course. I wasn’t sure if it was something I’d enjoy, but back when I was in school, I was a lot more open minded. I had more room to be open minded and try new things. And as I stood in the middle of San Croce, feeling so full of emotion, I saw it all come to life. A flashback to when I was more free, a time where I was most happy. For years, I was told: “the older you get, the less time you have to learn as freely as you do.”

Pardon my French, bullshit.

Not only was I able to experience a better time in my life, but seeing those tombs of had inspired me to be someone. These individuals had contributed immensely to Italian art and culture, and now people are going back to visit them, not to mourn, but almost to thank them for what they have done in the duration of their living period.

And of course, during this century, it’s very rare to be a Machiavelli or a Michelangelo, but it makes you think: maybe we have the ability to be more than just worm food, like I used to think. Perhaps there’s more to “living life while you can,” as an artist.

Furthermore, the Uffizi Gallery was one of the most overwhelming experiences - especially running into clients of mine from back home. Florence was so full of coincidences, I started to question whether they truly were put there for a reason. 

I may have spent all day in there because I truly looked at every single bloody piece in there: the colours, the expressions on the subjects faces, the colour of the scenery in the background. The artistic influence in Italy is so rich, and it really had me questioning my genre, my style. Each painting had a different style, a different genre, a different story: maybe enclosing myself to psychological thrillers or what I thought I “knew best” was what was keeping me from making new art, because I thought that they all had to be in a style that I had perfected in order for them to be good.

Later that night, on my way to a small restaurant for dinner, I had found a gentleman in the street, singing and playing his guitar for a large group of people. Checking the time, I thought I had some time to kill. I watched as he brought a newly engaged couple to the floor for a first dance, as he played a romantic song in the background and slowly, all the couples had come to the floor, in the middle of a square, dancing to a solo man busking Perfect by Ed Sheeran on a Thursday night at 11:45pm.

I had never seen anything like it. My perception on romance had been so flawed, that back home, I probably would have dropped my head and speed-walked past. However, this wasn’t a bunch of couples sharing a moment with eachother, this was a large group of people, sharing a moment together.

There was excitement; a thrill I’ve only ever experienced at some of my favourite concerts where your heart would be beating so hard from adrenaline that you would just have to hold someone in an embrace and take in the sound of your beating heart and hope that it aligns with the music.

I caught myself singing along with him, finding my voice within a large crowd, and hearing my own voice in my chest. That’s when I realized that I had lost touch, even with my music; the one thing that had brought me joy.

Some nights, when I was feeling overwhelmed, scared or upset, I would lay against the cold hardwood of my floor at home and let my heart sing whatever it wanted to. And that’s what I did when I got back to my hotel: I lay in that bed and I sang my heart out, not caring if the neighbours were in or the window was open.

Florence made me feel free; as if there wasn’t a care in the world. I began feeling like I was finally in touch with what made me truly happy, and that was my art. And on my final day in Florence, I had my first paragraph written on a small notepad I had brought with me.

Venice

I’m going to start on the train ride to Venice.

My train ride from Florence to Venice was nothing less than a disaster. I had a newfound struggle with anxiety, and if this would have happened anywhere else, I would have been leaning on my mom, or having a full on panic attack. I had accepted that I had been babied in regards to my my panic attacks, and I haven’t learnt to deal with them on my own, and my said “fearlessness” was being questioned. My time in Rome and Florence had taught me to be fearless - all those nights spent alone in the street, getting lost after midnight; it had all made me very self aware, and that’s the one thing I thought I was, but Italy had confirmed I wasn’t.  

However, I reminded myself that I am on my own, hoping it would make me feel better. I realized that there is no rush in life, especially when it comes to your physical and mental health. I had gotten off at the wrong stop and it was impossible to find someone who worked at the train staton at that specific stop. Hauling my heavy luggage, I pulled myself to the side and began taking deep breaths to calm myself down, reminding myself that there is a solution for everything. Once I had my mind in the right headspace, I began looking around at the signs, looking for anything that had said Venice, or the name of the Venice station, and using my logic, I successfully made it on to a seat on a train, with a dead phone and a lot of pride.

I had done it. My anxiety was no longer getting the better of me. I had control over myself, and that was the most important part.

With that being the start of my trip to Venice, of course I was stunned to arrive in Venice, only to find that the whole city runs on water taxis. This I had already known, but seeing it was something out of a dream. Then, the anxiety returned.

I have no problem speaking out about my mental wellness, and my panic attacks stem from something called emetophobia (the fear of being ill). I had always made a connection between getting sick and any kind of boat, so the mere thought of having to get on a water bus to get to my hotel was an absolute nightmare.

Again, after hauling my heavy luggage on to the bus, I began taking deep breaths. However, I remembered something in Rome: my restoration of faith had comforted me extremely. So, although to some it sounds silly, I just began repeatedly calling out to God, and of course, it had brought me comfort.

I’m obviously not making this a religious point, and faith comes in all shapes and sizes, but I was using my faith in God as a idiom for faith in myself. I had faith in myself.

I was named after the sea, and so I connect immediately with any body of water. I looked out the window and watched the waves; the way the sun glossed over the water making it shine like a diamond under glass. It was almost as if I was the body of water, and I was finding comfort in myself.

I was okay, and as I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, my heart rate slowed down and eventually it was time to get off the water bus.

I would have never been able to experience this back home, as my life was always on the go, and I never had to chance to just stop and take a breath, which is why my anxiety was always on high alert. I never got a change to take a moment to learn about myself, and what calms me down; but the relaxed culture of Venice had made me realize that fearlessness is knowledge of self.

And the first night in my hotel, I met the door man, Marco; a very young, polite gentleman with light brown, almost ginger hair. We got to chatting immediately and I felt a lot more comfortable with connecting with him, which was quite rare for someone like me. Though I consider myself very social, I tend to avoid giving any vulnerability to anyone. However, I caught myself slipping, and as he handed me the keys to my room, I told him: “by the way, it’s just me...and I am a little scared. Can you keep an eye on me and my room please?” 

Though to some that sounds ridiculous, and probably not a safe practice (this is not an advice post), I realized by the warm comforting smile on Marco’s face, that being a little vulnerable never hurt anyone. In fact, thats how we learn about ourselves: through accepting and sharing our fears. So that night, I got  on Viator (not spon) and bought a bloody gondola ticket.

And you guessed it, I got on that gondola and I was way too astonished to be bothered by motion sickness. As we passed through the canal, I watched the closely intertwined buildings. This whole city was an interesting metaphor for how closely knit people in Italy were. There was no competition within the people, nobody cared about working overtime to make more money in order to afford a better car or house than someone else. Life was so different than what I am used to. 

The beauty of Venice lay in the people and the connections I made throughout the trip. 

Interestingly enough, my favourite people were two gentlemen I met on my last day in Venice. They were my little touch of home - as it turns out that we were practically neighbours back home; almost impossible odds. 

After having the most enjoyable dinner of my entire trip with them, we had stayed out well past midnight just talking. The coincidence in itself made me realize something: I had achieved a certainty in myself during this trip but it was a reminder that, though I am very comfortable with my own presence, it doesn’t mean that I must always be alone. 

Back home, I would have been in bed by 11:30, but here I was, sitting in the middle of an empty street with two strangers I just met at two in the morning, having a debate about whether or not there was a map carved into the walls of the building we were sitting by. 

By the time I had gotten off the plane in Toronto the next day, I opened my Notes app on my iPhone and noticed a rough 2100 words jotted down from my flight...and it was amazing. It was something I would never think about writing; not only was it not my style, but it was so personally worded. There were little snippets from my trip, and references to real people and situations in my life. It was personal, thrilling and absolutely enticing. 

I was so surprised, and dumbfounded. I had found my writing style; I had found me, and who I was, through my art. 

I normally don’t tend to share my “personal” experiences on this blog, however in the last month and a half, I’ve witnessed my mother in a way I never thought I’d witness her. 

My grandparents do not reside in Canada with us. They live back in Iran, where my parents immigrated from much over 30 years ago. However, given the health decline in my grandmother over the last few years, my mom made the decision to get them out of the lonely, repetitive life back home and bring them out to stay with us for a while. 

The last time I had seen my grandmother, it was a few years ago where she had colour in her face and spoke lively, interacted with others and enjoyed her surroundings. So you could imagine my shock when I saw her slide in on a wheelchair from the airport, pale as a ghost, unable to recognize me off hand. She didn’t say a word that whole car ride, even when we got home. She needed assistance for basic needs and most days she just slept and sat silently, gazing into space; not being able to see anything. 

Strength is not a physical feature. And I learnt that by watching my mom turn into superwoman overnight (or so I thought, because she’s been a superwoman her whole life). 

While we all sat there, scared and confused, not knowing what to do. It was as if they had replaced old grandma with someone we couldn’t even recognize. I couldn’t sleep at night; I had a recurring nightmare where my grandmother would pass away. Not being able to go back to sleep, I’d sit outside her door trying to listen to her breath and snore to reassure myself. 

I will say, having my grandparents there changed the routine in our home drastically. My parents and I wouldn’t normally eat breakfast together unless it was a Sunday morning. It was very much a grab and go in the morning. However, my mum made it very clear that we were all to have dinner at night and spend the evening doing family activities together. 

My mum valued family like no other. I guess this is why I grew up with this constant need for affection and reassurance, because I never felt lonely for a second in my home with my family. 

Given out grab and go morning routine, mum made it clear that we were all to eat breakfast together every morning, greet eachother with a good morning hug and kiss and interact with eachother before the day started. It was a little bit of a nuisance as we were all somewhat trying to rush out of the door for work but, mum was set and wasn’t changing her mind. 

Sometimes I couldn’t even look at my grandmother without feeling cracks in my heart form at her decline. She would call on one of us to sit next to her, because she felt lonely, and sometimes I felt lucky that her vision was not the best so she didn’t have to watch me cry as I held her hand next to her. 

I was not able to control my emotions most times and I had to remove myself from the room, to which my mum was not letting happen. Sometimes I wish I could ask her: “how do you do it?” How do you hold back the tears when you have to help her go to the bathroom, or get her dressed or have to help her walk four steps to her room or go through great lengths to put eyedrops in or even feed her? 

I can’t even imagine to picture my mum having to go through anything my grandmother goes through, mainly because I have seen my mum the way I see her: strong, independent and smart. 

My mom works extra hours to, not only provide for us, but now for my grandparents as well: their doctors bills, taking them out for recreational activities. And yet, she comes home of working long hours, with a smile on her face and so much energy I couldn’t even possess after a ten hour massage. She’s the only person who can make my grandmother feel again. When my mum shows up, the entire energy of the house changes; it’s almost as if old grandma is back. 

She sits right by her, doesn’t move a muscle. She convinces her to leave the warm, solid confines of the home to actually go outside. She takes the time to show her things, the beauty of things. 

Within a day of being with my mum, my grandma was talking, interacting, eating and it’s only been a month and she’s up on her feet. 

But it begs the question: when mum goes to bed at night, how does she feel? How does she stay so positive? How is her mental health not being affected by this? 

People love to talk about dementia patients themselves but, what about the people who take care of them? Who have to see their loved ones slowly shift into an unrecognizable person? That’s her mom. 

I’ve come to realize how strong my mum actually is. Coming home from teaching special needs children, to having to take care of my grandmother. She’s tired. But she still manages to mask her negative emotions in order to make sure my grandmother forgets hers. And for a moment, when she sees my mum walk through the door, she does. 

But we need to take care of the people who take care of our loved ones. 

So mom, thank you for having the strength to do things we don’t have the strength to do. You are doing amazing, and you don’t know how much you’ve changed grandma. You have no idea how happy you’re making her. She will forever have the greatest memory of you. Thank you for showing her what love feels like after so much neglect. Thank you for being compassionate enough to understand what she’s going through. We are so proud of you. 

And though I may never understand how you’re able to mask your weaknesses and emotions so effortlessly, knowing it is for the benefit of others makes it unimportant. 

You are a superhero, mom. 

You’ve kicked dementia’s butt. 

You are so loved. 

Thank you for teaching us how important family is. There aren’t many people in the world like you and I am so lucky to have you.

I don’t actually have the words for this one. 

I have edited and rewritten this post six times because I felt like it came out all over the place and that’s simply because I have never been more excited to write anything in my life.

EDIT: Seven times.

I’m pretty sure you saw it coming though.

Over the weekend (this is actually going to be posted much further in advance so it’s probably not the weekend you’re thinking of...not that it’s really that important, try not to think about it), I had the pleasure of attending a small music festival in Holland’s Landing, Ontario that highlighted some local artists from Ontario, ranging from Toronto to Barrie.

As an individual who thinks local music festivals were much more personable and exciting, I was on the moon. However, there was one band in particular that had me sweating just waiting for them. And if you’re wondering, I was not disappointed. Not. One. Bit. Chills.

I had known of this band prior to seeing them at this show, I had known of them...and that is absolutely an understatement. I believe my Spotify “top artist” has changed since I did discover them a few years ago in 2019. I am so sorry for keeping them a secret for this long.

And whether it’s the extremely talented musician or the nostalgic elements of our favourite classic rock/blues bands, it almost seems like the musical stylings of Floral Park is almost so intoxicatingly addicting that it makes you want to cut your hair into crazy layers, wear thick eyeliner, get plaid flared jeans and get into a 1960′s Corvette, convertible of course, and drive down a wide open road with nothing but chunky sunglasses and an overbearing aura of wanderlust. Fun fact, Jimi Hendrix was gifted many convertible Corvette in the late 1960′s, another fact from my father.

I have no idea where to start.

Floral Park is a little village in Hampstead, New York. I actually had the pleasure of visiting Floral Park (the village) the last time I visited New York prior to the pandemic and interestingly enough, listening to Floral Park (the band) reminded me of the mornings I would visit River’s Cafe to grab my morning coffee or occasionally stop by Jack Duggan’s for a drink after a day of tiring tourist-like things. The character in this town is what I think reminds me so much of Floral Park’s (THE BAND) music. There’s so much life in the lyrics, the rhythm. It’s hard to find emotion like this in music nowadays, where lyrics are riddled with narcissistic materialism and fabricated confidence. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard a song that made me feel something.

That is...until I heard Backdoor Man.

If you know me, you’ll know that if I find a song I connect with, I will play that song so much until it makes everyone else want to push me into traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike and I can confidently say, I listen to Backdoor Man every single morning on my way to work, at least twice, to get me in the mood. Though it will not be the train train that takes me there, but what’s left of my 2010 C-Class (if you get that reference, I will buy you a chocolate bar).

When I first heard Backdoor Man, I couldn’t help but think it sounded like what I had heard as a kid. My father, the same guy who knows a bunch of Corvette facts, was a huge Jim Morrison fan. More than that, he was a fan of the blues. Which is why I had the lines “I eat more chicken than any man has ever seen” memorized by the time I started middle school; which may have made my sixth grade teacher slightly uncomfortable.

But if that line rings a bell to you, you must be familiar with the musical stylings of Mr. Willie Dixon who wrote, and introduced to the world, the concept of a Backdoor Man.

After Backdoor Man was written by Willie Dixon in 1960 and recorded by Howlin’ Wolf that same year, it was recorded by more artists down the line, including my dad’s favourite: The Doors (1967), Dudley Taft (2011) and Willie Dixon himself in 1983.

Blues music in general has proved to have a very sexy funk to it, however this specific song is far from innocent. It’s definitely not about two people having a nice feast of pork, beans and chicken that’s for sure. Since then, the “Backdoor Man” has become a protagonist to blues music and when you finally realize what it really means, it’ll make you cock your brow.

A “Backdoor Man” is a man that a woman cheats on her husband with; a man who sneaks through the back door while her husband is gone and/or asleep so he doesn’t get caught. And while having the roles of our modern day “side chick” quite literally reversed, it seems quite feministic but, I can assure you it’s far from it.  

For men, the “Backdoor Man” is all about power play; it gives them something to brag about. There’s this idea of choosing him over her husband that gives men a little bit of an ego boost: she’s not happy with her husband but she’ll risk getting caught to be with me. It gives him a level of importance which is why Dixon and Wolf are literally bragging about it in the song.

Hey, all you people that tryin' to sleep I'm out to make it with my midnight dream, yeah

He’s literally interrupting people’s sleep to let them know. Interestingly enough, the “Backdoor Man” is supposed to secret, so her husband doesn’t find out however, he’s bragging so loudly about it, it begs the question as to whether or not it’s really supposed to be a secret. What exactly are their intentions?

You men eat your dinner, eat your pork and beans I eat more chicken than any man ever seen, yeah, yeah

I find this line quite confusing. If we’re talking about “boasting,” wouldn’t it be the other way around? In the 60’s, pork was actually more expensive than chicken, running at 59 cents a pound whereas chicken ran at 29 cents. So, is there an underlying sexual meaning to this line or is it just a silly little lyric put in there to rhyme? I’ll leave that up to you.

How did we start talking about the price of meat?

Either way, my favourite line in Wolf’s recording is: “I’m a back door man.” Focus on the “I am;” like he’s not even trying to hide it! Better yet, it almost sounds like he’s proud of it. There is no shame in infidelity which says a lot about society in the 60’s, but that’s not what this is about. This power play is very evident right in this line that he keeps repeating over and over again; he is telling her that he is her back door man and there ain’t nothing she can do about it except eat chicken with him, I guess. I still don’t really know what’s going on in that line there.

Now here is where Floral Park really changes the game: not only does this super bluesy tune make us reminiscent of a lot of these renditions but, it’s the way that this “Backdoor Man” character is represented in modern day blues music.

Firstly, notice how our woman is being addressed: pretty lady, pretty baby, little darling. By addressing her with praise, they’re already giving her the upper hand in the power play. They’re taking the time to “woo” her. They want to make her feel good. And as a woman who doesn’t hear it enough, a little compliment will do that to you.

Secondly, there’s effort being made by this “Backdoor Man;” it’s not just a secretive affair:

Don't need no money or a diamond ring Well that's okay babe I'll still be your king

And:

600 miles that I drove tonight Now I got a rider that can treat me right

He drove 600 miles for her. How romantic.

Finally, the parallel to I’m a back door man, “I’ll be your back door man.”

The language is completely different. He’s giving her an offer rather than telling her how it’s going to be. This future tense offers us the idea that he was not a back door man but, is willing to be for her and though the second verse (and some of the third) follow into the theme of sexual insinuation, this male power play is eliminated through the way the lyrics are framed.

By framing the lyrics this way, they’ve made a modern, somewhat submissive version of a popular, cocky and confident blues character that has been made famous for always being in power; a way that they’re reinventing the norms and conventions within the blues genre. Not to mention the use of instruments: the electric guitar solo. Electric instruments in blues weren’t a thing until Mr. Walker made it a thing in the 30s.

Speaking of sexual insinuation, this is about to get a little NSFW.

We’ve made it clear that Mr. Dixon’s chicken, beans, and pork is very suggestive; which is kind of interesting because aren’t beans supposed to make you gassy? I wouldn’t know, I have IBS so I can’t really eat them anyways.  

Now I want to introduce you to a concept: Mr. Dixon’s little meat feast is Floral Park’s good ol’ boy stuff…and by that, I mean that trusty Corvette my dad has all these facts about. I’m talking about cars by the way.

Jazz and the blues have always been known for having some very sexual underlying themes. And if anyone disagrees, I will play them Shave ‘Em Dry and have this conversation afterwards. And while Floral Park isn’t as forward as Miss Lucille is, “Jump up and down and all around that thing” does get a nice imagine in your head, doesn’t it?

This automotive theme comes up quite a bit in the song. In the first verse, he says he “drove” six hundred miles, in the chorus he says he “has a rider” which sounds more like a bike, but you can always “ride along” in the passenger seat or the backseat, whatever has more room. Call it, “Backseat Man.” Badum, tss.

And you can’t even say I’m reaching here; we all know what happens in the backseat of many SUV’s.

Hey pretty baby you can shift my gear Yeah little darlin' you can even steer

Have any of you watched a 70’s movie and seen the hunky, 30 year old high schooler come out from under the car looking super dirty. See, ever since then, I’ve just associated cars, mechanics, shifts and gears with getting dirty. And I mean literally getting dirty. Not whatever this is. Get your mind out of the gutter.

I would also like to remind you what a gear stick looks very similar to. Now go ahead, shift his gear.

Floral Park takes the conventions of blues music and reinvents them in modern day society while making it clear that they are heavily influenced by our classic blues norms because they use some conventions, but not all. This makes them more appealing to today’s society, where giving power to women is sexy. And so is shifting gears and chicken and whatnot.

Now that I have put a very suggestive image in your head, or just made you very hungry, I will say this: Floral Park is gem to us Ontarians because they’re making music for Ontarians BY Ontarians. This band is from Newmarket, the same place I stole that hot sauce from the restaurant and got in trouble for it afterwards. Ah, memories.

But the best part, they make it very clear they are from Newmarket. Hence the name of their third EP, “Eagle Street,” which is a literal street in Newmarket, Ontario. This makes their music and detailed storytelling so reminiscent for us. 

There is literally a Floral Park song for every Ontarian experience.

Feeling homesick and wanting to hop on the first train back home? Train Train.

Feeling like leaving your dead-end desk job, hopping into your car and driving on a long winding road for hours just to get away from everyone and everything? Runaway Girl.

Feel like heading downtown on the 404, just to get drunk off the cheapest vodka, and walk down Queen Street for forty five minutes only to find a homeless man, offer him a slice of your pizza and talk about gender politics for two hours? Downtown Vibe.

Feel like you’re sick of getting heartbroken and want to put on your laciest, black undergarments, dark lipstick and leather boots and go get revenge on every man ever? Sticky Sweet.

Feel like driving down a dirt road, finding a random dive bar and getting up on the pool table to shake your bum and suddenly it’s last call, so you steal a cigarette from that one guy named Dave and Google the next closest bar to continue your night at? All Night Long.

Feel like watching the sunset from an Adirondack chair, while enjoying a weekend away with your friends at the cottage; drinking and laughing at old, nostalgic memories as the water peacefully crashes against the rocks?  Muskoka.

And I don’t really have to say anything about Rugged Lovin’.

Here’s the kicker: those are all memories I’ve made that I somehow connected to each song on each album. And that’s the beauty of Floral Park.

Their music and lyrics aren’t sickly manufactured by what society wants to hear, unlike other Toronto/Ontario artists. Their music is crafted from their own feelings, memories; the music that inspires them, the music they want to hear. This makes each album a story: a story of a guy named Fred, who heads downtown with his friends, finds a girl he is infatuated by (even though she’s taken), and starts feeling homesick being so far away from his small town and taking a long winding road back to where he belongs.

I have never experienced confidence in hip hop music until I began listening to Toronto artist, BØNES. 

I had mentioned before on my Twitter that I am taking a different turn on this blog for the next few posts. Given the restrictions of COVID settling slightly since the end of summer, (please don’t jinx it, I live in Ontario people) I have had the chance to finally go out and explore the music scene of my city physically again and I’ve realized that I have taken a lot of these artists for granted. 

In all honesty, I hadn’t experienced hip hop music in the modern scene. In fact, music that is labelled as “hip hop” in the modern century turned me away because of it’s egotistical and materialistic themes; especially when it came to new artists trying to “make it big” in the hip hop industry.

My only experience and/or knowledge of hip hop comes from my dad’s old Biggie and N.W.A records as well as the really old Kanye songs I had downloaded on my iPod when I was in high school. However, there’s something so enlightening about BØNES’s music that is different to what the new up and coming artists are putting out. 

BØNES, also known as Joe to the peasants that have the honour of interacting with him on a normal basis everyday (myself included), is a hip hop artist from Toronto, Ontario - which is something you don’t hear everyday (subtle Ontario satire for you there, I’ll wait for the applause to end). I actually have the honour of knowing Joe outside of his music career and I think it is his positive, down to earth personality that gets portrayed so vividly in his music, that makes him such an interesting artist. However, I will be referring to him for the rest of this post as Joe - not just because I want to be a little less formal but also it is extremely difficult to continue to press and hold the O key and click 6 consistently. I may or may not have arthritis by the end of his post which would totally be worth it if it meant the last thing I ever typed was BØNES in all caps. 

Though it’s different to determine what exactly makes BØNES music so unique, I seem to catch myself finding similarities between him and an artist from Detroit, Michigan who calls himself JMSN. Though their music is completely different - the concepts are quite similar. Take a genre, modernize it and make it, well BØNES. For example, I very vaguely classified Joe’s (arthritis is kicking in) genre as hip hop however, I really don’t think “hip hop” is what it is. Let me explain. 

According to writer and essayist Greg Tate, who had also written a fabulous essay called Everything But the Burden: What White People Are Taking from Black Culture, hip hop is a  “complex culture comprising four elements: deejaying, or “turntabling”; rapping, also known as “MCing” or “rhyming”; graffiti painting, also known as “graf” or “writing”; and “B-boying,” which encompasses hip-hop dance, style, and attitude, along with the sort of virile body language that philosopher Cornel West described as “postural semantics Tate, 2021).” Interestingly enough, other than “rhyming,” Joe’s music doesn’t necessarily embody all aspects of hip hop; it evolves them the way we wish modern day hip hop does. 

However, one part of his music that embodies the ideologies of hip hop is something called the “knowledge of self/consciousness (Tate, 2021).” I personally believe that this aspect should be at the top of a genre so popular such as hip hop. None of these newer artists embody this aspect which is disappointing to say the least because, as a genre predominantly African American occupied and originated, this genre should scream confidence and self strength. This was done by older hip hop artist who would use their music and platform to talk about their struggles as a community, eg. Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, "The Message" (1982). 

And the beauty of hip hop is portrayed through language. See, modern day hip hop (please don’t ask me to name any of these artists, I will butcher anything that doesn’t start with “Lil”) seems to be riddled with very forward, egotistical remarks about how much wealthier they are than everyone else, how many “chains” they have or my personal favourite: how many “bitches” they have. Please, this USED to be a PG blog but look how far we come. We’re saying “bitches” on this blog. 

There’s a difference between saying that and “now I’ve been stuck in this place and I’m aiming to grow (Thankful, 2019)” or “came a long way and I’m so damn proud (I Ain’t Miss A Damn Thing, 2020).” This switch in language embodies confidence in a way that is personal to the listener themselves rather than make them feel discouraged about now being at the same social class as the artist. 

Joe’s (arthritis is back again) music is so empowering and cleverly phrased, as well as the context is all based around growth as he shares his experiences through his journey of self growth; by using a theory I like to call “empathizing with the enemy-” ahhh yes, we’re getting psychological in this one. You thought we were done with all the psychology. WRONG.

This theory is based around how individuals gain personal profit by “empathizing with the enemy.” This theory is embodied in this one BØNES lyric, and dare I say invented it: “I can’t really blame [him] if he’s nervous.” After listening to BØNES’s music, I began looking into the difference between gaining confidence and growing confidence. Gaining confidence is filled, or I guess ironically, is an empty confidence that is filled through materialistic things or bullying in order to fill a void in their character; a doubt that if they’re not on top, they will never amount to anything. This is so popular in modern day hip hop, when artists give value to sex, drugs and other controversial things in order to stay relevant or seem like they are “above” something. This does nothing for the listener; in fact, it does the opposite. I originally began researching this theory through literature; the effect words have when put together, the difference between “I can’t really blame [him] if he’s nervous” and “he should be nervous.” Notice how the words are similar, but the first one seems less demanding and forceful, where as the other one seems much more confident and self preserved; the concept of “you don’t have to like me, I like myself,” as corny as it sounds. 

BØNES idolizes self growth, which is a constant theme in his music, and self consciousness. My theory is because of how far he has come as a person, and I am sure that the reason he is as charming and kind to everyone as he is, is simply because he is happy and kind to himself. And that means a lot when it comes to being an artist. 

Many artists chose to fill a void with their art while others use it to spread the love and passion they have when they practice their art with others. This is so evident in BØNES’ music and it’s what differentiates him from newer artists trying to make it today. Rather than give in to the normal, consistent and boring themes of hip hop, his bubbly personality has changed the lyric game for the better. 

Why is this important? Music is such a huge effect on the listener, the language more than anything, and it’s important that we understand the effect language has on people, especially in music. I am biased, as an English major, but if you’ve read my essay “Making Love vs. @&!$ing: How Music Has Watered Down The Value of Romance,” you probably already know my views on how important language is when it comes to music, mostly because lyricism evolves from poetry...I say as I look at the gigantic portrait of Shakespeare hanging from my wall. Or even compare different ways heartbreak is portrayed through music - that new Olivia Rodrigo song on Tik Tok versus “I Would Rather Go Blind.” 

LANGUAGE IN MUSIC IS IMPORTANT. And BØNES understood the assignment. Let’s just say, I have a gym playlist especially made with Thankful and I Know on them because I feel just a little bit more confident when I look in the mirror afterwards. 

As I begin this new series with pride in my little province (another little satirical joke for my Ontario people) and the artists within it, I want to urge you all to go listen and support your local artists and talents. 

Hello friends! I am trying a new series on this blog called “Musical Mediation,” where I intervene with different songs in order to resolve a final theme of the song; essentially I will unpack these songs based on their lyrics, background, style and elements in order to tell you what they are truly about. 

On my Instagram, I had put a poll for which song I should do for my first post between Nirvana’s “Heart Shaped Box” and Harry Styles’ “Sign of the Times.” Of course, as I predicted, the Harries had took over and SOTT had come in with over 90 percent. 

If you follow my Instagram, you would also know that I have been following Harry Styles quite closely the past year. I can confidently say that his success, as well as the societally challenging Vogue cover, have truly made him one of the most powerful musicians in the world. 

Sign of the Times is Style’s first solo song released upon his seperation from One Direction. I didn’t follow One Direction but, if their music was anything like this song, I understand the hype. The ballad was rumoured to be about a mother who is told, upon giving birth, that her child is fine however she was not going to make it. This was later confirmed by Harry himself in an interview with NME, in which he was quoted saying: “go forth and conquer.” 

Though this may initially be dark and sad, and you wonder why such a bright young man would write such a deeply saddening song, it actually is a brilliantly written song about “fundamentals.” 

Of course, you know the drill: here on this blog, we are all English majors. Thus, we all need a reason to think there is more to this text and lucky for us, there actually is. 

If we go into this reading with the understanding that this is about a mother who is giving up her life for her child, we will read the lyrics much differently however, I wanted to introduce a new theory that perhaps Harry himself may be intrigued to hear. 

“Sign of the Times” is a saying which refers to popular culture; it is a sign that differentiates a certain time period based on what is popular or important during that time frame. Some people see this as a way of knowing what was in fashion during that time, however us English majors are going to take it one step further. Perhaps this is a way of differentiating the values of society; understanding that the pop culture of the time defines a certain amount of the values of that society. Reading this in the case of the mother and her child, we can see that the mother values her child’s life more than her own because she believes her child can achieve greatness while she has lived a certain amount of her life; she believes that the value of life is so thick that she is rather content with giving up hers to let her child experience it. 

With that being said, we move into the most iconic lyric of the song, as well as my favourite one: “you can’t bribe the door on the way to the sky.” 

This one line speaks volumes about our current society. What Harry is suggesting is that getting into heaven, which is what society has told us is the end goal of our lives, can not be bribed into. In order to achieve goodness beyond the grave, we must do good while we are alive. Our society has become so fascinated by materialism and wealth that they had forgotten what it means to be a good person. They are so concerned with the societal norms of beauty that they would rather focus on the way they look than compliment someone who doesn’t fit the set norms of society; not to mention that bullying is still very much alive. 

Though our society is much more empathetic than our past generations, it’s the artificial values that have tainted the way we think as an easily influenced society. 

“Just stop your crying, it’s the sign of the times” is speaking to the individuals who feel excluded from these norms of society. If we read this in terms of the mother and her child, it simply refers to the fact that she shouldn’t be so sad, this is what is important: the life of her child and the fact that her child will go on to life a full life. 

If we put these two assumptions together, we get this: rather than crying about not being within the current norms of society, we should smile about the true values of what life hold. The simple fact that we are alive on this planet is a gift. 

Another one of my favourite lines in terms of our new theory is “I hope you’re wearing your best clothes.” I love this because I personally believe it’s a satirical knick on the actual values of our artificial society: our appearances. Everyone wants the nicest clothes, the nicest shoes, the nicest bodies; we forget what is underneath them. Perhaps he’s also critiquing the fact that people are so vigilant about the things we wear; our society has learnt to judge based on appearances which is why we must wear the nicest clothes. To further this, in the beginning of the song he says: “you look pretty good up here, but you ain’t really good.” This is referring to the fact that no matter how gorgeous you look to other people, you are the only person who is self aware of the depression that comes with hiding your true face with a guard of materialism. What are you afraid of?

The chorus further develops to finish with: “why are we always stuck here running from the bullets?” In order to understand this, we must understand what Harry potentially means by “bullets.” If we continue with our theory of values, perhaps “bullets” are a metaphor for our true selves? If we think about it, bullets come really fast. There’s no dodging a bullet...unless you’re Samuel L Jackson or Arnold Schwarzenegger. But in the case in which we are neither of those men, bullets will always catch up to you. 

If these bullets are a metaphor for our true selves, perhaps Harry is asking why we mask ourselves as these false personas; hiding under these materialistic things, and are always running away from the truth. “Just stop your crying have the time of your life” could be the solution for this problem; just live your life to the fullest, understand the true value of your life because according to Harry, it’s not the car you drive or the gold on your neck. And damn, he’s right. 

As if Harry Styles wasn’t done giving us a revolutionary societal critique in music form, he continues to say: “we don’t talk enough, we should open up, before it’s all too much.” The wisdom is undeniable at this point. He is directly telling us that we should open up our true selves to this society before it’s “too much” and we are wallowing in the deep rooted sorrow of these false personas based on the developed norms within society. Eventually, we will be screaming “we got to get away” like he does in the final phrases of this song. Eventually, the constant over-materialism will be too much and we will need to get away from this society because we will never be satisfied with ourselves if we don’t have these materialistic things. We lose all sense of identity; in order to understand the true value of life, we must give up these artificial values of our society. However, if we do that, we will be excluded from our society but that last line of the song is referring to the fact that we will want to be excluded; a musical rendition of “I hate it here!” 

We shouldn’t want to “get away from here.” How could we as people build a society that is so artificial when we are fighting for the things that are truly of value in the world: human rights, gender and race equality, etc. How could we ever achieve these things that are of true value to society if we are so worried about which part of town is most dangerous, who has more money, who wears counterfeit things, who has the highest education? Why must we judge eachother on these artificial things that don’t mean anything when we could be putting that energy towards solving LGBTQ hate crime or helping neighbourhoods with poverty so that they, just like us, can value their lives and feel safe within their real selves? 

Yes friends, we got all that from a song. This is the power of music and Harry Styles nailed it! This is the real definition of #TREATPEOPLEWITHKINDNESS. 

I had a lot of fun unpacking this. It was a blast and this song is a truly influential piece, especially in 2020. Tell me what songs I should do next in the comments! 

I promise this much needed hiatus was for a good cause! 

I had carefully crafted an older idea that I had been working on into a new novel for you to read. [NOTE: In honour of the publication in fall 2021, I have uploaded the first three chapters for you to read here.]

“The Final Expose” is a satirical novel written about the obsessions with pop culture that critiques the values set within modern day society. My muse for this story was a post I saw from Daily Mail which covered Kylie Jenner leaving a club in a neon green dress. You heard me right. That’s it. 

I realized how dumbed down journalism has become. Given that I have a very close relationship with journalism and appreciate the craft, I was slightly offended by the shallowing of this art. 

“The Final Expose” follows Jane Cadieux, an honourable celebrity journalist from New York City who is up against her rival coworker for a big promotion. After deciding to write an undercover expose on relationships crafted through public relations, she takes refuge in her subject Harrison Sterling and his newly announced engagement to famous actress Julia Rose. Eventually, their acquaintance turns romantic, but is cut short when she suspects Julia and Harrison have a much darker secret. 

Without giving too much away, the structure of this novel is based off the classic writings of Agatha Christie and the emergence of detective fiction. The satiric elements lie in the carefully crafted clues weaved within the storyline. 

Rather than hiding these clues with distractions like Christie does, I chose to put them right out in the open. The reason for this is that Jane, the journalist, completely disregards these clues because she is concerned with her “story,” which is merely based off the relationship of two romanticized celebrities. This is to show the disregard for important clues within society that people disregard because they’re simply not entertaining. For example, three bills were passed the day Caitlyn Jenner came out as transgender. Most people didn’t know about these pills because the media chose to cover Jenner’s transition instead. I am not suggesting that this wasn’t important news, I am merely implying that these bills would have been highly salient for the American people. 

In the book, Jane tells her assistant that she “should have gone into political journalism” in which she responds “but this is the stuff that sells.” This is to display one of the values of our current society: money. Materialism has created this obsession with the luxurious lifestyle these celebrities live. Perhaps we are living vicariously through them which is why we strive off celebrity news. 

Furthermore, the youth of today are never satisfied. Whether it is the four year olds with their iPad’s or the couples who can’t stop asking for flowers and amorous exchanges, our society is never satisfied. This is mirrored in Jane’s relationship with her career. No matter how much information she seems to nudge out of Harrison, it isn’t enough for her big promotional story. Even when she feels uncomfortable and unsafe, she disregards her personal safety for the promotion she is suspecting with her story. 

Though there is an extensive amount of symbolism in this story, I don’t want to ruin it for you. When you do read it, look out for the gun, the piece of paper, the prescription and the language within the emails to his “fiancee.” But each of these symbols are relative to a specific issue in society; Jane finding the gun is relative to gun violence in America and the “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville. 

Not only does this book critique the values of modern day society, it also uses modern day feminism to display different gender relationships within the workplace. Jane’s relationships with Alex (rival) and Mr. Darcy (boss) are drastically different on their end however, remain the same on hers. For example, [SPOILER] Mr. Darcy hesitates on giving her the promotion because he worries she will rely on her emotions and become hysterical when given power; simply because she was a woman. I’ve also mentioned this before: the word hysteria was actually created to describe a “female mental illness.”

This story embodies a very general critique on the relationships todays youth have with themselves and eachother; it displays the true dangers of never being satisfied and that gentrification plays a role within the role place. Due to the structure of this story, I don’t want to give too much away but I will say is: please watch out for these clues. Go into this story with an open mind and truly read inbetween the lines. This is what our youth needs to hear today adn I am excited for the rest of you to read the whole thing.