I am so, incredibly, utterly furious.

Nigel Farage, the racist bigot that led the racist UKIP (UK Independence Party) and the Leave Campaign of Brexit, just announced his resignation as leader of UKIP. Like Johnson, he wiped his hands of taking responsibility for pushing this country into complete chaos and confusion. He just ran away.

Two of the most prominent voices that successfully led the Leave Campaign has now quit.

They are finally showing their true, traitorous, cowardice colours.

Too bad it’s all too late.

Brexiteers, are you feeling stupid and fooled now?

Just to recap what you have done:

  • The pound has dropped to its lowest value in 30 years.
  • $3trillion was lost on the global stock market in 2 days.
  • David Cameron quit as Prime Minister.
  • Boris Johnson quit the race to become the next PM.
  • Farage and several other Leave Campaigners tried to distance themselves from their campaign slogan of putting the”£350 million” we send to the EU every week (it’s actually closer to £190m) towards NHS (National Health Service)
  • Scotland is threatening a second Independence referendum to leave the UK.
  • No one has a plan on Brexit. Not the government. Not the Brexit Campaign leadership. NO ONE.
  • The Opposition Party–the Labour Party–is in the midst of a coup d-etat of their leader, Jeremy Corbyn.

The most likely candidate to succeed Cameron is Therasa May, who voted Remain. So basically, the Brexit campaign leadership was made up of traitors and cowards. They have all either stabbed each other in the back or ran away with their tails between their legs. The country will be governed by a woman who voted Remain.

How. F*cking. Ironic.

The most heartbreaking of all this is the wider implications. The Brexit leadership campaigned on lies and broken promises. The fact that they succeeded in winning the referendum, is a sad and tragic testament to the ignorance of the masses in this country and the fundamental flaw of direct democracy.

“The one pervading evil of democracy is the tyranny of the majority, or rather of that party, not always the majority, that succeeds, by force or fraud, in carrying elections.”

The History of Freedom in Antiquity, 1877, Lord Acton


News Update: Party-Poopers

As per my last post, I’ve been keenly observing the news. My god, this country is a mess…

Warning: I have extreme biases against Brexiteers and dumb politicians.

Here in the UK, common assumptions mean nothing anymore. Most people thought Brexit wouldn’t be voted through. It was. Boris Johnson, who everyone thought was the most likely candidate by a long shot, to take over from David Cameron as Prime Minister, quit yesterday. So let’s just throw all common sense and assumptions out the window.

Tories who wanted to run for the leadership was to announce their candidacy before noon yesterday. Johnson, the walking-bimbo-blond-loud-speaker, who campaigned strong and hard for the Leave side, decided to wipe his hands of his responsibility in putting this country into disunity and utter chaos, and leave it up to five other Tories to clean up the mess.

This is all supposedly because Michael Gove, the justice secretary, who was thought to back Johnson, decided “No. F*ck you. I want my day in the sun.” and announced his bid for leadership.

As much as I despise Johnson, I hate Gove that much more. At least Johnson successfully–arguable–managed to run one of the biggest cities in the world and is rumoured to be a highly-intelligent person who created this persona of a stupid, silly, blond idiot to seem harmless to his opponents. Gove on the other hand, is the man who claimed during Brexit that “I think the people in this country have had enough of experts“, and accused them of “elitism”. As John Oliver put it best, “Yeeees. F*ck these eggheads with their studies and degrees. I get my economic forecast from Clever Otis, the GPD-predicting horse.”If he gains leadership, I’m afraid the brain-drain that was thought to be brought on by Brexit, will actually be mandated. And soon enough, this land will be overrun by donkeys and Clever Otis. I’m not saying that degrees are the best indicator of one’s intelligence but…


…interpret this how you will.

Although, with Johnson out, Theresa May, the home secretary, may have a high chance of winning the leadership. She voted Remain, thus, a sensible person to me. There is little hope that she will try and reverse a democratic decision (which is political suicide), but she seems more reasonable, compared to Gove. To be fair, even a cat high on catnip seems that way compared to Gove.

The other three candidates are not in the limelight nearly as much as May and Gove. Nonetheless, they are worth a mention, because as I’ve warned, assumptions about the outcome of things here in this country is on a one-way train to wrong-town. Stephen Crabb is the Work and Pensions Secretary. He also backed Remain. Andrea Leadsom, a former bank and fund manager, is the current Energy minister. She campaigned for Leave. Finally, Liam Fox, the former cabinet minister, who came third in the 2005 bid for leadership, is now trying again. He is apparently on the right side of the Conservative spectrum, and a Brexiteer.

Here is a useful little graph of how this election will proceed this Fall:


Let’s also mention the coup-d’etat that’s taking place over on the Opposition side of things. Jeremy Corbyn, who shocked everyone by overwhelmingly winning the support of his party last September, is now in the midst of a standoff against his own party’s MPs. These Members of Parliament blame Corbyn for Brexiteers winning in Labour areas due to his total lack of leadership. Last Tuesday, the Labour Party passed a vote of no confidence on Corbyn. But instead of stepping down, he is stubbornly sticking to his post. Cameron (we all still remember this knucklehead right?) also weighted in on this by telling Corbyn: “For heaven’s sake man, go.” Yes, just follow my example, man. Put your tail between your legs and run.

But Corbyn has a public mandate. He was backed by 60% of Labour party members only a few months ago. The Labour Party can either call a new party leadership election, which may result in Corbyn winning a majority again, in which case, they will all have to shut up and take it. Or those against Corbyn can split off into their own little Party, but that would open an even wider space for a Conservative victory in the next general election. Lip-Dems (Liberal Democrats, who were massacred in the last General Election) anyone?

There you have it. Grab your popcorn (I’ve got my bottle of “water” on the rocks), ladies and gentlemen. This is going to be an a wild and unpredictable performance.

Who said the British can’t be funny?

Other Highlights of Utter Embarrassment of and by British Politicians:


I’ll leave you with that, because that–my hand to my face with a “you must be f*cking kidding me” chuckle–will be my default position for the rest of the time I’m in London.

Happy Friday everyone.

Ignorance is not bliss.

13528152_10153492429936891_7416283595667371888_oDear Reader,

As I stand among the collapsing monuments in the post-Brexit wreckage, I am acutely aware of how uninformed I was when I voted.

I understood the bare-bones of the issues, that free movement of goods, services and people will be damaged, that the EU will retaliate to make an example out of Britain. But I was mostly informed by my more knowledgeable peers and by the intense xenophobia of the Leave campaign. Even if I knew nothing about the EU, I would have voted Remain simply because I could never stand on the side of racism.

It was only immediately after the results that I began to devour article after article of information on this topic. I began to scrape the surface of the massive iceberg that is the EU. I learned about Article 50. I learned about EU trade policies, about which trade agreements would go and which ones would stay, how long it takes to negotiate trade agreements with the EU (Canada and Norway are the precedence). I learned about the British political parties. I learned about the only somewhat-precedent we have of how to leave the EU, namely Greenland.

I shouldn’t have done that, after the vote. I contributed to the upward swing of Google searches on the EU and Brexit, post-Brexit. I am part of what most of my friends shake their heads and laugh in despair at: the ignorant.

Before the vote, if a Brexiteer came up to me, found out I was voting Remain and demanded to know why, the only trick I could pull out of the hat is that he/she is a racist. That’s why. That’s it. Otherwise, I was as about ignorant as they were about the EU.

What an embarrassment.

With the realization of the massive implications this referendum has on my generation and the generations after me, I am damned if I vote uninformed ever again.

This means that every day I will read the BBC, the Guardian, the Independent, the New York Times, the Economist, the Atlantic, Vox, etc. I will listen to NPR and other news podcasts. I will start with these and slowly gain a grasp on their biases and political leanings. Having a kaleidoscope of sources to draw my information from is one of the key components of being informed (Finally, I learned something from 6 years of higher education! 60K well-spent…). So I will also work on expanding my sources as I grow.

One of the top tips for being happy is to not read the news. The news overwhelmingly tips in favour of terrible crimes, political nightmares, and all things negative. Rarely are there stories about caring nurses who saved the life of an orphan, or some brave man rescuing a dog from drowning, or something inspiring. Those I generally get from popular websites like Buzzfeed.

Despite the negativity, headaches and loss of faith one receives from reading the news, I don’t want to make the conscious choice of disengaging with the affairs of my world. The decisions made by the older generations will affect me and us long after they are gone. We will inherit their pollution. We will inherit their greed. We will inherit their corruption. We will inherit their wars. And I want to follow along as it happens.

I don’t presume I’ll be able to solve any of these problems. I am well-aware of my limited capacity as one human being to change things in the bigger world.  But, I want to, at least, know what’s going on. I want to be able to explain to my children what was happening in my world and why their world is the way it is. I don’t want blessed ignorance, because I have seen first-hand how passionate and intolerant ignorant people can become.

The less you know, the more certain you are of what you know.

Besides, there are uplifting stories, especially in the fields of science and technology. There is dazzling progress taking place. The world is too fascinating and the things that we do are too intriguing for me to remain in my dark little cave, reassuring myself that everything is fine.

For this space, my new challenge may manifest itself into weekly summaries of the stories that came to past, into monthly favourites of the best articles, or just into sporadic, unwarranted posts about something hopefully inspirational (most likely not though. I find that I am at my best when tackling an issue that plagues us rather than inspires us). Please follow “The World in Review” category for future content.

I hope you’ll ride along.


72 Hours after Brexit

The world seems so scary from up here on my 6th floor apartment.

I woke up this morning to headlines about racist outbursts around the city and around the country. Brexiteers are shouting at immigrant-looking shoppers in the grocery store in Gloucester to “f*ck right off“. School children are being bullied by their classmates because of their ethnicity. Cultural centres are being vandalized and smeared by racist comments here in London.

Yesterday, I had hope. Today, I’m fearful.

I’m scared to step outside because I might be met with these outbursts. I’m scared for the more than 2 million Europeans living in this country. I’m scared for my future. I’m scared I will lose my friends and the person I love because they are talking about moving away, to countries that I can’t support myself in because I don’t speak their local language. I’ve cried over the grim possibilities. I am so, so afraid.

It’s hard to convey how tense the atmosphere here is, to my family and friends back home. I’ve been asked why I’m so worked up about this, I’m not even European, they would point out.

I’m not European. But I’m a visible minority. I’ve experienced racism in the past. I know how it feels to be unwanted and looked at with disgust. I’m not British. But this is the first time in five years that I’ve lived in one place this long. My autonomy started here. My adulthood started here. My life as an individual, separate from my family, started here. I invested my time, my hard-work, my money, and my ideas here. Only for two years thought. So the depth of my sadness, my heartbrokenness, my fears, cannot even compare to the families who have moved here generations ago, who have invested their entire lives, their loved ones, and their children in this country, who are now receiving unwarranted hatred on the streets, in their grocery stores, schools, and homes.

I thought about my own anger and hate. I thought about hope. I thought about fear. I’m confused as to what to think. Should I let anger and hate take control? Should I keep hoping in the face of all this horror? Should I fear and get out of here?

I don’t know what to feel, so I read. I read endless articles in the hope that I gain some sort of perspective. I don’t want to let anger and hatred take over, because these racists deserve none of my attention or emotions. It’s hard to hope because waves and waves of xenophobia keep on crashing over this country. I stubbornly refuse to let fear push me out, because escape seems so cowardice. It seems like I’ve failed and given up.

So I turn to all three:

Anger and hate have manifested themselves in a twisted sort of vengeance. I hope Scotland and Northern Ireland and whichever other area decides to vote for independence, goes free. I want to see the English economy tank and the pound reduced to nothing. I want to see those racist communities isolated and desolate. I want to see the Brexiteer leadership scrambling and regretful. I want to see England crash and burn because then it can serve as a glorious example of how xenophobia does nothing but hurt and destroy. Because then, the rest of the EU could be saved.

Hope is also there. I hope this country will rectify itself. The lack of leadership from the Brexiteer politicians and more than 2 million signatures on a petition for a second Brexit referendum are lights in a deep sea of dangerous xenophobia. Sadiq Khan, London’s Mayor, issuing a message to the city to calm the markets and especially, to reassure the more than 1 million Europeans living here that they are welcome and that “the enormous contribution [they] make” is valued “and that will not change as a result of this referendum”. Nicola Sturgeon’s reassurance that Scotland will continue to welcome Europeans with open arms, warms my heart. There is hope. There remains the 48.1%.

Finally, there comes fear. The links I have provided at the start of this post are enough. I don’t want to showcase any more of the horrors that have arisen because Brexiteers think racism is ok to express now that the UK have voted for Leave.

In the long, torturous days, weeks, months, and years ahead, I will no doubt oscillate between these and many more emotions. But childhood movies and lessons about how good always wins over evil, will keep me hoping for the best, hoping that inclusiveness does triumph over racism, and that love does triumph over hate.

Dear 48.1%


Dear 48.1%,

Thank you.

There are so many tweets, articles, and outcry against the outcome of this terrible referendum. There are so many broken hearts, and so much anger in the aftermath of this wreckage. I was angry too. I was heartbroken too. I was dejected too.

But this morning I woke up to new hope. I had given so much of my attention to the 51.9% that I neglected you. I neglected your openness. I neglected your triumph. I neglected your vote for unity, prosperity and harmony.

There are no words that can express my overflowing gratitude to you, the more than 16 million people who voted to remain in the Union. I had felt unwanted, unloved, and betrayed in the immediate hours following the results. I could barely move, paralyzed by confusion, fear, and fury. Yesterday, I mourned the losses.

Today, I will rejoice, because I have you. Thank you for voting for people like me. Thank you for bringing me back from the abyss of racism, hatred, and bigotry. Thank you for lighting hope in me again.

So instead of admitting defeat, wallowing in despair, and packing my bags to go, I will put faith in you. I have you as my allies, as my friends, as my support. So I will not leave in a heap of anger and sorrow. I will not leave you. I will stay, and fight with you, for your future, for my future, for our future together.

Thank you, for voting.


Dear Brexiteer


Dear Brexiteers,


You have changed this country forever.

For some of you, this referendum was the first time you have ever exercised your democratic privilege. For me, it was one of only a handful of times I was able to wield the power of democracy.

If I came up to you in person, I would find most of you well-educated, interesting, and friendly. We would hopefully laugh and talk over a few pints and rejoice in getting to know another great human being.

But I can’t see any of that right now.

You wanted your “independence”. You have now put this once-great nation on track to “taking back control”. You have refused to listen to the experts, and turned a blind eye to all the flashing, red STOP signs. You have made a decision that Britain cannot pull back from, now or ever.

Who do you expect to trade with if you are unwilling to trade with your closest neighbors? I assume you don’t want to trade with continental Europe because if you did, you wouldn’t have voted to leave its free-moving market. You would be smart enough to understand that a “free” Britain would have to adhere to all of the regulations and rules of the EU that have irritated you so much, in order to trade with the 500-million-strong Union.

Who do you expect to keep your biggest city and biggest source of subsistence running? I assume you don’t want London to exist anymore because you have spouted hate and disgust at all those NHS-sucking home-wrecking Europeans and immigrants who are here. This city grows and prospers because of the diversity of cultures and peoples, and the strength that lies in the harmonious union of all races. It breathes because of its multi-ethnic composition. Many of the iconic buildings, businesses, foods, and world-class organizations are born out of and maintained by this hardworking conglomerate of faces and bodies which you have just smashed to pieces.

How do you expect to defeat the terrorists? I assume they are no longer the enemy because you have made us the enemy. Your allies, your comrades in war, your battalion, you have turned your back on us. You have turned inward and broken the family. The terrorists must be celebrating in union with you. They love seeing a house divided.

How do you expect to keep your country together? I assume you don’t want Scotland anymore because you knew full well they don’t want to part with the EU. You couldn’t comprehend why they don’t want to be a part of the British family. It’s the same incomprehension I have of your decision to leave the European one.

I’m sorry for all the assumptions about you. I assume a lot of things about you, because I have never met you. But you have let your assumptions of me determine the future of this country and my fate. You have never met me. Yet, you want to chase away my closest friends. You want to kick me out for being lazy, unemployed and spoiled off your government benefits. You hate me without knowing a single thing about me. You hate my friends without knowing their kindness, their joy, their hard-work, and above all, their love for and contribution to your country.

They loved this country. They uprooted themselves because they have immense respect for you, and great admiration for this house of yours. They come to better themselves and in turn, that betters this once-great nation. And you, without even getting to know us, without even giving us a chance to express our gratitude for you and your welcoming arms, have spit in our faces and slammed the door.

Some of you voted to leave, out of spite for the “establishment”. “It’s nothing against you”, you would reason with me. But I have no sympathies for you because in your spite, you did not consider the greater good. You did not consider compassion. You did not consider love. You did not consider unity. You have made us fearful and lost. You have made me feel unwanted. You have made me unsympathetic to you.

I used to love this country. I remember the overflowing excitement of having arrived bright-eyed in a worldly city, in a tolerant and caring nation, and in a multicultural atmosphere that reminded me of home.

But you have shattered all of my illusions. You have destroyed my hope of a future here. You have betrayed my values. You have broken my heart.

So, I assume you are full of fear. I assume you are full of hate. I assume you are unkind. Because I can’t imagine anyone who is loving, compassionate and kind, to have done this to us, and even more, to have subjected their own homeland to this.

Good luck in trying to piece this country back together. I, for one, will not forgive and forget your hostility.

I wish you all the best to your isolated, xenophobic, and uncertain future, without us.

-An expat



Dear reader,

I have a terrible habit.

I can never stay in the same space for too long. I either have to move or rearrange the furniture.

It seems this terrible habit also followed me into the bloggersphere.

I began this blog after my time in Japan came to a close back in 2013. As I packed up my life in anticipation for my two-year Masters, I thought I’d move to a new blog home.

Now, my two years have wrapped up, and for quite a while I was dizzy navigating the rapid waters of adulthood. I had no head space to sit and breathe.

Finally, I’ve got a Sunday all to myself. I slept in. I went walking. I read. I shuffled around. I had time and peace to think.

It’s time for a makeover.

I recently picked up Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar for the second time. I abandoned it way back during my Masters-years and somehow finally acquired a physical copy of it in recent months. Despite the years that have gone by since I last read part of it, one major aspect always pops up whenever her name comes to mind: the fig tree.

“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.” – Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

It is hauntingly beautiful, the way she laid it out.

It perfectly paints the struggle gnawing at my insides. Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the remake: The Fig Tree. Born out of a lethargic Sunday afternoon, out of a stubborn quarter-life crisis that just won’t go away.

Same blog, same content, with a new purpose.

If you are as lost as I am, join me, will you?


P.S.: I know that photo isn’t one of a fig tree. Toma(e)to, tomato.