There was a quote in The Alchemist that goes:

“And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

I have this theory that once a person reaches a certain point in their life, the only thing they will think about is their own welfare.

Everything else is irrelevant.

Whether it’s the want to pursue a dream, or the desire to fall in love, we come to a point where we choose to have nothing but happiness for ourselves. What makes us happy? What can we reap from the overflowing abundance of possibilities the world has sown?

The journey will suck, like a big, fat wrecking ball constantly taking a swing at your stomach – nobody said it’d be a breeze but I’m willing to gamble that it’d be worth it.

I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a boat that’s rocking perilously between jagged rocks and still water. Like two halves of the world split in between the wooden planks underneath my feet.

If I could just dip my foot into that clear water…

So the waves will slow, to gently lap the boat and sway it to a steady rhythm.

If I could only reach out and take what I want. I want to be able to do that, because despite the fears I have to overcome, I know I want this.

Self-reflection makes you realise things. Like what you really want and what you deserve; they provide you this sense of comfort knowing that you’re one step closer to this vague glitterbomb underneath the Maldivian blue waters we so-call happiness.


Midnight Musings: Passion vs Occupation

Work. To support your hobby.

This is so important and it’s something I’m beginning to realise more and more.

When I first started work, I thought I had to find a job that meant everything to me. I had to find that niche and turn it into an occupation because I was always fed the idea to always ‘do something you love’ which explains a lot why I keep bouncing from one job to another.

‘Do something you love’ is amazing advice but here’s the thing.

Doing something you love doesn’t necessarily mean make it your occupation. This is the biggest misconception we have nowadays, especially among us millennials. We expect to get a job that we are passionate about and brings us gratification, happiness and all the while fitting in a big fat paycheck in between.

But the real world doesn’t work like that. The real world doesn’t give a shit about your aspirations to become a musician. Instead it says if you don’t take this job that has nothing to do with music, then you won’t be able to afford becoming a musician.

So what’s it going to be?

When you reach that kind of ultimatum, you need to ask yourself what is more important. You need to grow the fuck up and learn to prioritise.

Ideally, everyone would want to get paid for doing something they love. Everyone wants their art to be showcased, their music to be heard, their books to be read but sometimes you need to accept the fact that life really doesn’t work that way.

So here is my little nugget of wisdom for the day; if you have no opportunity or are not given the privilege to pursue your hobby as a career, find a job you don’t mind doing. Find something you know you’re good at that can be profitable and hone it. Make that money. There is no shame in falling into the corporate world and selling a bit of your soul to big companies. In the mean time, learn as much as you can. All these experiences will act as an investment for your real passion, your real aspirations.

When you already have a clear goal pictured, the only thing you need to worry about is paving the path to get there. Jobs I realise, especially now, are nothing but the bricks to lay on the pavement to ease your journey which, ultimately, will be your hobby.

Some people have it better – and that’s fine. Some people have it much worse – and that’s unfortunate but it just means they have to work a little bit harder. Shit man, at the end of the day, do what fits you.

Fuck the rest, you do you boo.

The usual disclaimer: My thoughts are my own. Should you want to discuss, hit me up on Twitter: @IzzyKhaleedy. Should you want to argue, also hit me up on Twitter because I love me some drama.

With Conviction

There is very little that I care for in this world.

‘Care’ – or caring – in a sense that I take something very seriously, to trust and follow its nature wholly until no obstacle can pose as a threat. Whether it be an idea or inspiration; if it feels right to me, I go full throttle.

For the longest time, I’ve always thought I cared too much – but I was struck by a small epiphany that I’ve foolishly mistaken caring for simply being in a constant state of crippling anxiety.

My relationship with anxiety and fear have always gotten the best of me. They jumble up my emotions, my perception of situations, and fuck up my internal assessment.

Deep seated issues aside, caring about something is the very foundation of one’s passion. How much do you care about cooking, for example, to make it your ambition? How far are you willing to go to satiate your craving for self fulfilment?

I remember having a conversation with my colleague who doubled as a frontman in a band. He was giving me an insight on the cost of living as a musician.

“We get paid a certain amount to play shows – and most of the time it’s a laughable amount. Most of the money goes to transportation, rental, and other stuff. Whatever that’s left goes back to the band’s fund. Sometimes if we play shows far away, and accommodation isn’t provided, we have to fork out our own money to get by.”

So then why do you do it? Why go through all that? Waste so much money? Agree to play gigs so far away? Subject yourself to all these inconveniences?

“Well, everyone has their hobbies. This is mine.”

A humbling answer that took me by surprise. I realised then that the worst torture people voluntarily put themselves through isn’t some act of heroism that they want the world to acknowledge, merely the trials that come with what they choose to pursue. Getting over those obstacles count as an accomplishment and accomplishments fuel people up with more motivation to keep going despite what hurdle may come. It’s a wonderfully complex and exciting cycle.

You might be thinking that this is one of those obvious realisations and I’d be too stupid to treat it as a newfound discovery but you should also understand that many things we know have absolutely no substantial meaning/weight until something inside us clicks; an instinctual mechanism that’s locked itself in, kind of like fitting that last piece of a small puzzle. Deeply satisfying.

An epiphany is a visceral knowledge of something we already know.

These are two epiphanies I’m glad struck me. Now I’m unraveling a new puzzle; what is it that makes me care? What can I fill my time with that is important to me? What is it in my life that makes me want to pursue with doubtless conviction?

I guess part of the excitement is finding that out. So. We’ll see!

I’m feeling-

It’s about 7 minutes in on my 22nd birthday, this warrants a victory speech.


Let me tell you what 21 felt like.

It was frightening and confusing.

Being 21 meant experimenting with many different things for me. I was dipping my feet into a whole new territory that I wasn’t equipped to handle. Like a fish out of water writhing desperately to return to the sea, I wanted to go back to my comfort zone. In some ways I still have one foot out and dry, but not so much that it leaves me unsatisfied.

But there were many lessons that came with the fear and confusion.

I learnt to be more open-minded, to recognise my weak points and make an effort to overcome them. I learnt that making changes to yourself is difficult a.f, and failing merely indicates growth. Despite all the self-deprecating, and the intention of talking about my trials and errors in a negative way, I’m going to pat myself on the back and deservingly admit that I turned out pretty damn well.

It’s been a vomit-inducing roller coaster ride but I managed to stick through them all and I’m proud of myself.

I’m sure everyone has their fair share of uncertainties in life and it seems to increase as you grow older but take birthdays as milestones to reflect what you have accomplished in that year.

Self doubt will always be my biggest hurdle but I made an accomplishment by identifying what it was that made me unhappy and that is good enough for me, even if it took one whole year of figuring it out.

So I leave this post with many prayers that 22 will be a good year. For the first time, my vision of the future is blurred completely. I have no idea what’s in-store for me next year. Am I afraid? Hell yeah, but that’s a concern I’m willing to face for the betterment of myself.

Enough self-reflection. Bed time.




Wednesdays are for pizza parties. Except for salty tunas; always unwelcome.

The floor is our meeting space. A touch of somberness hangs in the air as the backbone’s clock ticks. T-minus 2 weeks. Collective opinions, unfortunate news, my silence is my contribution – or lack thereof.

Yesterday’s battle with dust continues, with experimental tunes and feel good clean riffs in the background.

Another joint.
More talks, my brain zooms while my mouth struggles to speak. Scribbles scribbles scribbles, followed by a gripping paranoia only a few puffs can bring me.
Salted caramel with dark chocolate ganache cake made me better, though.

Still, the question lingers; what do I think of me?


General recognition and playful banters, followed by a bandaged up and coned cat desperately meowing to roam the outside. Stacks and stacks of dusty CDs, propped up onto a corner, face-up and alphabetised. Organisational skills scattered all over the place. Ironic. More confrontation with strangers over the phone. Drained and slightly detached – surprisingly so. Feel good conversations followed by a burst of spontaneity (two songs). Tequila Tuesdays, new faces and small talk. Dank kush in the car, with some good ass music.

Life’s been smooth.