'Cause Pigs can Fly

It’s easier to be a travel blogger than it is to take public transport in Sri Lanka. And this is saying a lot since I absolutely love taking the bus or train. Photoshop skills help because then you don’t actually have to visit a place to blog about it (and by blog, I do also mean Instagram Stories and whatever else the kids are up to these days). It helps to have a personal photographer, preferably someone who knows a thing or two about filters. But besides a few basic skills, you don’t really need much to become a travel blogger. Because I’m supposed to be putting more effort into doing things I love (writing) and I consider myself quite the expert travel blogger (don’t challenge this. I’ve looked at a minimum of two dozen travel destinations this year alone), I thought of sharing some of my wisdom with you. Travelling by train is an excellent way to reduce the cost of a trip and drastically increase travel time. Trains can take you to a lot of places and the rest can be tra

I remember talking with a friend about why we drink and the reason was that for those few hours, we don’t have to be in control of our lives. We forget whatever is taking up space in our minds. We forget work and shitty people and everything that makes life difficult. For those few hours, we can float around and say whatever without worrying about every little thing. This giving up of control is something I yearn for sometimes. I look for that feeling of not being me anymore. But this isn’t something I want all the time, which is why I flip out whenever I don’t have control of a situation at any other time. This is why the moment I had to sign a contract at work, I felt like I could no longer control my relationship with my place of employment. When I have to sit still for a long time, I start to freak out because I can’t just walk away. And then there is control over my emotions. There are times when my thoughts keep crashing into each other. When I can’t help but be sad for n

One of the worst things we do, I think, is convincing ourselves that our problems are all part and parcel of being an adult. I tweeted recently about how tired I was and someone left a reply along the lines of ‘welcome to adulthood’. They didn’t mean anything by it, but I thought, “no!” We need to stop convincing ourselves that being an adult means killing ourselves, because it shouldn’t be. These past few days have been exhausting. I’ve been physically and mentally drained. Last week, I remember waiting for a bus and biting my lip to stop it from trembling. I remember blinking away tears. I remember not talking because I couldn’t stop my voice from doing that weird thing it does before you start crying. I remember waking up hating myself. Thinking about all the different ways my life could just end and hating myself for hating the universe for not putting me in the wrong place at the wrong time. I hated myself. I hated that I couldn’t love going to work. I hated that word