People on trains.

I do so often find pleasure in the simple act of people watching. The common location of this somewhat mysterious pastime is on a train. The Underground in particular. I don't travel to London as often as I would love to, but when I do I always find myself pondering the elaborate and unknown lives of my fellow train passengers.

Sometimes it is an unsettling feeling to suddenly realise the sheer mass of humans I do not and will never know. Every person on the train a stranger to me must also be aware of the lives they will not enter, the paths that will not cross, my own included. We must all share a mutual thought, and yet lead strange and separate lives to one another. I do not know these passenger's middle names, or how many children they have, if they have siblings, whether they are orphans, if they're in love, nor the household they will return to at the end of the day.

And yet, for one short moment of their existence, I have a tiny window into their varied and wonderful lives. I see a small selection of their mannerisms; perhaps they look at the floor to avoid eye contact, slide their glasses up their nose every few minutes, fold their hands neatly in their laps, tap their foot continuously, play with the split ends of their long and straggly hair. Maybe there are stories behind the mannerisms, childhood traumas, inherited nervous ticks, acts of self consciousness.

When people read books on the train I wonder what else the have read in their lifetimes, what they hope and plan to read in the future, whether we would have a nice chat about books if I bothered to ask. They might have shelves and shelves of books at home, or they might hate the clutter. They could be considering purchasing a kindle. Perhaps they're even bored of the book they're reading now.

An older woman is on the train and I wonder if there are children she is thinking about. Or a man sits opposite who worries about the next time he will see his daughter he lost custody over. A couple sit next to me. Are they in a new relationship? Is he thinking of proposing? Do they live together? Will it end soon?

As soon as I arrive at my destination I walk off the train and never think about those people again. I doubt whether I could remember all their faces. But for a moment we unknowingly shared a few minutes together. Were passing friends. We use the train as our metaphor for the lives we share, and the different places we go to. Some of our journeys are long and arduous, others short and merciful.

I never greet nor bid farewell to these people on trains, but I do note the few moments we share together. They are fuel to my daydreams, instruments in the passing of my time.

Thank you to the people in my people watching. I'm glad we could share a few simple moments.

Indulge.

Why is indulgence often frowned upon? As if feeling good about one's self and enjoying the luxuries the world has to offer is a sin. Must suffering really be a necessary part of life, if it can be avoided by simple indulgent activities. That would be the opposite of indulgence would it not? A personal subjugation of every possible enjoyment to a hard working existence, only managing to indulge with guilty consequence.

I say that if you already have the willpower to put effort into necessary and potentially unenjoyable work, then you are entirely permitted to indulge as much as possible. Eat as much chocolate, watch as much crap television, sleep in as long as you like, stay in bed for a whole day, spend hours doing a hobby. Feel wonderful afterwards and replenished by a day or so of luxury that you have not just allowed yourself but have taken as a mandatory duty to yourself. There is no question of guilt because pleasure is your privilege, a right. It is not even a treat, it is only the natural inclination towards indulgence that will probably make you very relaxed and content.

So please, please indulge yourself. You only have yourself to please.

Lena Dunham is my spirit animal...

I have a habit of seeing successful young female writers storming the media and feeling an irrational fury and hatred against that person. That is the unfortunately ugly way I subconsciously channel my envy for another's life.

'Why does she get to write a hit tv show that's super awesome and is beautifully representative of a current young generation? I could totally do that better than her, and it would be a million times awesomer. I bet she's actually a bitch.'
- The recent yet no longer applicable opinion I had of Lena Dunham.

I used to hate Lena Dunham because she was leading my dream life before me and taking all my glory, but then I watched Girls, read some interviews, stalked her twitter and fell deeply and admirably in love with her. This girl is unbelievably cool and funny and I want.to.be.her. How could I have ever felt bad feelings towards her? It's not her fault she's done amazingly well at such a young age because of her wit and talent. Let her be an example to you, not a source of hatred. Let her path influence your own. Idolise her, if you want. And I think I have.

I think in making such a quick change in opinion I have taught myself it is much healthier to think well of people you may envy, and to love them for what you don't have. They've obviously done something right and you can learn from it.

It is also completely ridiculous to actively despise someone you've never actually met, and only a little bit mad to love someone you don't know.

One more time with feeling.

The significance of everything and anything is subjective to the individual. When meaning exists for some, the same thing can be a matter of indifference for others. This also signifies that a lot of what we think is important, is purely because of how we have interpreted the event or the object or the situation. Perhaps even the feeling of sentimentality is entirely fictional, that meaning doesn't really exist. No other creature celebrates Christmas or birthdays, for them it is just another day. They don't feel disappointment, or expectation, or experience any anti-climax.

It is not to say that sentimentality is bad, or the downfall of the human race. No, it is what can primarily define us as a species. And possibly we fill meaning into every single tiny moment and thing of our lives to cover that hole we inevitably feel when curiosity gets the better of us and our answers will not suffice. It may be the fear of the unknown phenomenon of life after death, or the meaning of life, or the reason behind our existence that causes us to fill in the gaps as a peace of mind.

What we cannot do, but what we continue with daily, is let the sentimentality define our lives in the way we define our sentimentality. For that allows your day to be 'ruined', for disappointment to creep in, and for further misunderstanding. Instead, if you allow yourself to enjoy the meaning and feeling you create for everything with the acknowledgment that it may not really matter then you understand your own subjectivity. If you accept the 'bad' outcomes of the day you felt meant a lot as a part of the meaning then disappointment does not exist. It is all okay, the feeling still has the same effect.

That is near impossible to achieve I know, but it's a thought to have at least.

Christmas doesn't count for Atheists. Apparently.

In response to FoxNews.com's article 'A Christmas gift for Atheists -- five reasons why God exists'

**Disclaimer: If you can't detect the sarcasm, this is purely a response to the article, and not a dig at a generalised Christian culture. 


Around this time of year, the small yet feisty race of the Fox News Christian Preachers, come out with all the best new information on the lesser known threat that is Atheism. The Christmas spirit seems to inspire the age old 'we are right and you are wrong' argument which often claims the ways in which atheists are always going so off the handle in their desperate need to believe in something that isn't actually there. The poor souls suffer in this festive season for their spirituality and happiness is concealed by an empty void known only to the Godless.

This is of course due to the fact they are unable to understand the origin of this celebration of the birth of a man 2000 years ago who may or may not be the son of a God. Every single atheist also does not participate in the originally pagan mid-winter festival because of this misunderstanding. Supposedly. This potentially contagious  way of thinking apparently doesn't even have a substantial back up. "There's no good evidence for God's existence!" is not a legitimate argument for not believing in the Holy Deity. Although, researchers have not found the appropriate argument for atheists world wide, and therefore they must stick with that insufficient reasoning.

Here is the insufficient reasoning:

1. There is no current evidence to provide the origin of the universe, only that it expanded due to the Big Bang Theory. The argument that this must mean God is the creator of all things is absurd, for if something cannot begin from nothing how is a transcendent, unembodied mind to be excluded from this rule? There is no evidence for how the universe began, which does not therefore mean one can instantaneously jump to the conclusion that it must be a higher being behind it because that surely seems even more illogical. For now let's just leave it and move on with our lives whilst scientists continue to research to fill our curious, human hunger for complete knowledge and understanding. Once they find the answer, we can potentially carry this argument on, or let it be resolved.

2. Scientific research provides the best explanation for the fine tuning of the universe. If you happen to mix a bunch of atoms together an great amount of things can happen at the right time, in the right place. The design argument is surely for those who struggle to accept the reasoning of physical necessity and chance. The latter actually lack the need for further explanation as to how and why this designer came to be in the first place.

3. Humanity and social evolution provide the best explanation of objective moral values and duties. Because EVEN atheists can realise that the Holocaust was wrong. And also because many Christians have interpreted some parts of the bible to be preaching a way of life that no longer corresponds with the current times, and have deemed it to be wrong. Therefore humans are not entirely reliant on a book to tell them the difference between bad and good. They can make decisions for themselves, due to a multitude of years developing as culture and society as an intelligent species.

4. Simple physical evidence provides the best explanation of the interpreted historical facts of Jesus' resurrection that probably didn't happen it was most likely a metaphor anyway. This one's quite simple, given we've recently realised a lot of the mistakes we've made with the meaning and translation of the bible what're the chances we've somehow mistaken an impossible occurrence for a ridiculous miracle? Particularly given there is absolutely no other evidence other than the sometimes unreliable bible for this death to life incidence.

5. Madness, desperation, delirium, and wonderfully passionate human belief can too provide personal experience with God. I once saw a water fairy in a lake when I was 9. I rest my case.

Alas, do not worry the good thing is that atheists tend to be very passionate people and want to believe in something.
(Please tell me what that is even supposed to mean)

Dear women,

To all the silly women this may concern,

I cannot remember a time when you didn't say you looked old despite you convincing me that only recently have you been making this observation. It has always been with a woeful sigh or moan that you pull back the delicate skin on your face and claim that this is how you used to look, when you had skin like mine. May I remind you however that I know for certain your skin was not uncomfortably tight across your cheekbones, tugging the corner of your eyes upwards at the age of 16.
"I look so much better like this," you say, staring pitifully at your reflection. "If I got a facelift this is what it would look like."
"And how ridiculous that would look." I have replied many a time, slightly fearful that a small section of your brain has been washed with the media's nightmarish beauty regime full of scalpels and implants.

It saddens me to know that when you look at yourself in the mirror it is not the bright, wide eyed face that I see but an old, ugly one only visible to you and you alone. I struggle now to tell you how beautiful you are, meaning it truthfully and adamantly, when I know you will not listen. For you, now that the smile lines have started to stay, the end is almost certainly nigh. The smile lines of course that you detest and the world around you enjoys, looks forward to even.

What topsy turviness we have entered into that you believe your wide eyes and pretty smile are not stunning but frightening. That they have been spoilt and hidden by a sea of wrinkles. Wrinkles, might I add for the thousandth time, that are invisible to everyone who is blinded by that kind grin you possess. Your eyes hold such warmth, such intensity and you have lost your ability to know that. Something makes you continue to complain to me how old you look, how ruined. How can you not see? Why would I be lying?

Alas, I know exactly what compels this despair you have for the apparent 'death' of your delicate features. Somebody, somewhere decided the age a woman must reach at the moment they turn invisible. Once a woman reaches this age no matter how pretty, how intelligent, how witty, how funny, how creative she may be the man who deems her undesirable no longer sees her. I know now that you are scared of becoming 'old', a term that should be taken gracefully and with honour, because you are frightened your voice is entirely dependant on itself. And who would hear a woman's voice anyway? Soon with any luck society will forget the female they can't fantasise about, they will become grandmothers and be put away in a cupboard of out of date women.

Why would a woman want anything to do anyway? Her life is over by 50. Even earlier than that, if you like.

I know how ambitious you are. I know that you still have dreams to do big things to go big places. You of all people have taught me that aspirations never fade, people will always dream. You still work hard for things, your life is not over and will not be for many years to come. You are not old. You are not yet tired. Those wrinkles you show me are not there. They don't exist.

So please, let me tell you that you are beautiful. Let me think it. I do know. I can see it.

Let me, for the sake of a new generation of women, not be afraid of becoming old. I want to do it as gracefully and brilliantly as is possible.

You are silly.

Yours,

Mollie.

In Afghanistan, there are women.

Before I start I want you to know that I cried before writing this, because it scares me. Ready?

In Afghanistan a woman's son was kidnapped and killed because she's a headmistress of a girls' school. His three month old corpse was found with 12 gun shot wounds to his body. She continues to educate young women in a world where women are dirt on men's shoes. She continues to be threatened by her son's murderers. Her husband was told this by them, "Your wife is working, she was a [parliamentary] candidate, and was awarded the Malalai gold medal by Afghan-Americans. And you still say you have done nothing and ask why we are cruel to you?" 

In Afghanistan a woman and her family was targeted by the Taliban for working as a gynaecologist providing healthcare for women suffering from abuse, including rape and domestic violence. She worked for an abortion clinic working for girls who had been raped by their relatives. If these girls did not have an abortion, they would be killed by their families in an 'honour' killing. Two years after receiving warnings from the Taliban, her 11 year old son was almost killed by a grenade in her back garden. Six months later her 22 year old brother actually died in a grenade attack in the front of her house. 

In Afghanistan, in recent months, the last two most senior female police officers in Helmand province have been murdered. 

In Afghanistan women continue to work in full burkas, receiving threats from the Taliban, spat on, murdered, judged, deceived, exploited, attacked. 

This is because they are women. I am so disgusted by this discrimination I could be sick. My respect for every single female in that country could not be greater. They persist in a slow and terrible fight every single day. 

Amnesty International is asking for local MPs to be contacted and pushed for support by the UK for women in Afghanistan after many countries pull out in 2014. Here's the link. https://www.amnesty.org.uk/actions/stop-violence-against-women-activists-afghanistan?utm_source=Email&utm_medium=niche_email&utm_campaign=women&utm_content=button2

In Afghanistan there is an entire country of strong but frightened women. I give them words and thoughts with hope and love because unfortunately it's all I can afford.