me and @yourfellowjude being the best astro twins ever
Like I can’t describe how freaked out I am about finding out I have an astro twin <3 <3
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Andulka
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

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NASA
KIROKAZE
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
YOU ARE THE REASON
styofa doing anything
Monterey Bay Aquarium
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
will byers stan first human second
Not today Justin
Misplaced Lens Cap
art blog(derogatory)
RMH
Three Goblin Art
Xuebing Du
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@yourfellowjude
me and @yourfellowjude being the best astro twins ever
Like I can’t describe how freaked out I am about finding out I have an astro twin <3 <3
Things that make me frustrated
Bachelor degrees, master degrees, PhD degrees, any paper that you need to have on your CV to prove that you are intelligent and capable.
“Capable”, a word someone described me with when I told him I wanted to study journalism. “Of course, I guess you are capable of that”, but he wasn’t sure of course. Behind his sentence laid his doubt, as he was obsessed with correcting my grammar mistakes in Dutch when we texted for a while.
But, apart from that. I never mean to underestimate the hard work and dedication of students and professionals who spend long years reading, researching, collecting, concluding and pour their hearts and minds into their graduation project and adding that up to the field they are specialized in.
What annoys me is missing this one paper or title on your CV that proves you are intelligent enough to get hired and be taken seriously.
A friend of mine shared on Facebook the result of one of these lame quizzes. “Modelling is the job you will succeed it.” Her mom reacted: “My sweetheart, no wonder your beauty is ideal for modelling, but let’s look forward to your graduation as an engineer, and even your PhD degree, my intelligent creature!”
Yes, for sure engineering requires a high IQ level and a vision of its own, but how would a model feel when she reads such a comment? Knowing that already the whole society thinks she’s dumb and being good-looking is the only quality she has which would fade away by time, and therefore she will have no value because ‘she’s empty from the inside, brainless and only poses for pictures.’
We are still fighting materialism and the objectifying of humans (women in particular). Our value and worth is not measured by how pretty we are and how high we score in the marriage market. But does that mean that we have to become the opposite?
Our beauty is our inner beauty, our intelligence, our independence...etc.
But why in order to prove that, do we have to discard make-up artists, models, hairdressers and people (women) who have a different kind of intelligence? Is a person (a woman) who’s an engineer/doctor/scientist/ CEO ...more valuable than a human (a woman) who practices a profession that doesn’t require going to a fancy university?
Frustrating.
So back in the classroom, where I died to get into, after years of sleepless nights trying to figure out what is my real passion, after moving to another country, learning its language, standing up on my feet again and started my bachelor in journalism while my colleagues and age mates are graduating. Years. Me, who rarely wants one thing for more than a day. I got into it, I got started.
“It is advised to do another study next to this one,” advised the teacher. “Here you learn how to practice journalism, writing, filming, approaching your resources...etc.”
Apparently that’s the plan of half of my classmates. They are planning/ already studying some major direction in politics, anthropology, sociology… and doing the thing I discovered I am passionate about ‘aside’.
And that, ladies and gentlemen makes me frustrated. I will need another fancy paper to prove I am intelligent and an expert in my field.
No one:
Me: Let me tell you the story of my life and overshare all the crap that I did and give you a great material to judge me even though we just met assuming you will have empathy towards me. <3
The super power
I have come to this realization while looking at the list of people who liked a picture of me on Facebook, each from a tribe, the neighbor in Damascus, the neighbor in a Dutch village, the liberal cousin, the more conservative one, the sarcastic, the affectionate, a classmate from the 4rth grade who recently gave birth to her first child, a current uni classmate who has just graduated from high school, a rebel, a regime supporter, a social helper, a roommate, a colleague, a teacher ... From east and west, north and south...
‘Wow’, I thought to myself. I myself have always, always been a bunch of contradictions. A free-spirit, yet reserved. Extravert, yet introvert. Vomiting rainbows and glitter, yet carrying the unbearable weight of existing on tiny shoulders. A believer, yet a disbeliever. A disbeliever, yet a believer. An open book, yet a labyrinth of complexities.
Maybe, just maybe it would be a lot easier if I accept that my current neighbor won’t be a fan of the matte I drank with my neighbor who I grew up with in Damascus. Maybe it’s Ok for the nonchalant not to like the enthusiasm about possibilities of the optimist in me. Maybe it is totally fine for the ludicrous not to like it when the rational me tells him to keep his feet on the ground. May the regime supporter gets offended when I point on the crimes his president committed. May the men hidden behind beards, women behind scarves get upset of my summer picture of my feet with a beer on the beach.
Dear world: may you find my ‘lizard’ gift absurd. But I embrace the magic, the normality, the dust, the blossoms, the dirt, the rainbow, the darkness, and the million experiences I am made of. May you not like all of me. But this is who I am. I was made to be a piece of everything, to be the one who’s okay around everyone. I was made to connect people. And by people I mean all people. That is my super power.
The station
A new day knocks on the window
A night wears its moon soon after
Clouds rule the sky
Sun rays sparkle through that grey chapter
Wheels of cars, bikes, suitcases,
Crying and laughter
People in a hurry
Bragging about their joys
Others doomed by disasters
......................
A girl smiles in between
Knitting a story with her pen
About a touch, a look, a scent
A kiss on her cheeks, lips and chin
Back to that spring
When love didn’t even ring
It was standing at the door
In the middle of the green moors
In the middle of nowhere
It was everywhere
..................
The spring became summer
Summer felt like winter
Waiting would last forever
Waiting turned into a wicked fever
Until patience runs
Nature prepares her skies and sun
Spreads her grass, her fields
All her gifts, she yields
To us, the lovers who seek her
To hide and escape in a corner
Under a shadow that she would offer
To us, the lovers who missed each other
We gave one another a shoulder
For whenever life gets colder
We shared words, letters, poems
We became to one another a shelter
For whenever life become bitter
...................
There comes December
Trains, cars, hurrying shoppers
A feast, that means the world to some
A feast, meaningless to others
...................
A girl smiles in between
Thinking of her lover
Who makes a heaven
Out of everywhere he enters
Knitting a story about love
A bond they have together
A story about love
Made of endless chapters
....................
A spoiled brat.
More than ever, I wonder in the middle of doing something where I’m supposed to be 1000% focused at, whether there is something wrong in my brain.
Few weeks ago I had exams. Survived most of them, survived questioning my own life choices and all the hesitation, survived my desire to stop, escape, and wash dishes somewhere. Figured out that probably the reason I can’t read a single paragraph properly, make a thousand decisions in the fractions of a second, forgetting why am I sitting in this bus, losing interest in a person /hobby /book/ activity soon after I’ve been dying to meet them / do it / learn about it / read it / have it .. etc, is probably because I have ADD!
Never thought about it. Could be just a typical ENFP issue, maybe it’s all these new life changes (but I’ve always been that way), maybe it’s the stress .. I don’t know.
I am trying to fix an appointment at the doctor, so far it has been three weeks since I’ve approached the “huisarts”, when I was throwing up after a cold night and (no one is believing me) two glasses of white wine. No. More.
In the meantime, I’ve been trying to keep my shit together. Do what I said I would do. Call people more often. Joining people or asking them to join for a cup of coffee or a cigarette outside. Fight the urge to stay in bed and go out for a run in the early morning. Keep reminding myself why I came here. Keep reminding myself that somewhere in the past, a girl wished the life that I have today, wished access to all these fancy cameras that we can borrow from school. Wished for a mentor like Caroline, who has a vision, a character and a heart. I used to criticize the Dutch youth, because they took everything they have for granted. Their fancy schools, our miserable schools. The organizations that support them, the institutions that scared the fuck out of us. Their democratic teachers, the teachers who would occasionally smash our palms with a wooden stick in February.
After three years of living here, I have the feeling that I became as spoiled. I am taking my college and all the opportunities I have for granted, and whining like a spoiled Brat! I promised myself I would make myself proud, never skip a lesson, not bitch about how difficult life is, go 100% for it. Be the best. Shine and take advantage of everything I can.
But as I mentioned, I can’t completely screw myself yet. Got to wait for that doctor appointment to work out. Maybe my brain is not cooperating even though I have the will to change. Maybe I can’t read a single line because I need a listening ear or a paper that can handle the, excuse my language, the puke of insecurity, anxiety, doubts, hesitations, fears, hopes, will, wild dreams, memories, love, hate, ... before I can read someone’s else work of art, or educational paper.
I will wait for a bit before I call myself a spoiled whiny brat...
Tbc,
Judy
A letter to the right
I wonder, why never have I put a d*** in someone’s mouth where all kinds of racist discriminating speeches come from? cause I know I’m a guest and must stay decent. I prefer scrolling through the comments online without replying. I don’t dare to join a debate in Dutch because I’ll lose, don’t dare to speak English because I don’t want to appear as the lazy foreigner who doesn’t bother learning the country’s language.
But let me clarify something;
Dear Forum voor Democratie and PVV voters,
I completely respect your own choice of giving your voice to whoever you want and understand your fear about safety in your country. However, you must know that the war in my country is not over as some leaders and policy makers are claiming. They themselves don’t even know the complexity of the Syrian crisis. It is not about missiles and bullets. Missiles have never been the main issue. In fact, for forty years people didn’t dare to speak up, nor do I dare it now because I am a coward.
If I was sent back unwillingly, the regime might treat me like a traitor because I “abandoned” my country, being considered an outsider and a traitor by the regime isn’t something that you want to be.
This idea of war is over is being highly promoted by the regime in Syria because it is a trap. Because the regime never saw it as an issue that you leave your country for in the first place! According to them, why would you even criticize the president in the first place?
In short, many men and women from who have been politically active and showed criticism of the regime would be risking their lives if they enter Syria.
That’s why we are learning the language instead of shutting our mouths with a duct tape and being unable to speak up in our own homeland with our own mother language against oppression and corruption.
Greetings,
Us Syrians who received refugees and been hospital to tourists all over the world when we had a place to call home. You fuckers.
“Welcome to the real world“, he said to me
Ever since I was a child in Damascus, it was a matter of course to me that we "should" be doing our best to help one another, keep the school hallways clean, save water and energy, welcome refugees from war zones, take the bike more often, be kind to the helpless ..etc (all the other cheesy things :) ) I grew up and ended up in Holland! I believed it was a fancy thing to finally be in a European country where these values are also a matter of course, highly preserved and respected unlike my home country. Turns out some fellas here had a name and a label to throw me into when in comes to such discussions: "a lefty."
I never felt more offended the first time someone called me that. "How dare you turning global human issues literally affecting all of us into a political conflict between a right and a left?" I said.
Also turns out, I was such a child living in an adults world. It was one of the million cold splashes of water that left me shaking with confusion and frustration walking into the judgey world of adults who apparently knew much more about the world than I did.
In this house, you can‘t spell flower without spelling soil, rain, drought, global warming, economy, politics, right and left.
You can’t speak of a people demanding their basic rights peacefully without the revolution being demonized by the oppressors, without the geopolitical interests interference of the the east and the west, without the bearded men with white cloaks or black turbans racing to their awaited Godly Utopia.
You can’t mention the word “refugee”, without hearing a reply about hidden cameras snapping criminals with middle eastern background, without mentioning Islam, without mentioning Isis and the US, politics, money, oil, democracy, industry, extremism, tolerance, Europe, policies.
If you are a Syrian living in Europe in 2019, you are likely to be judged by your classmates because you speak too little, judged by your whole village if you don’t buy meat from its farmers, judged by your Syrian friends if you type a Facebook post in English, stripped from your national belonging if you criticize your government when you finally can because you live abroad, judged by the European right because you are learning a new language while “the war is over” and you are not back home building your country. Judged if you drink alcohol. Judged if you don’t drink alcohol.
Speaking up, not saying a single word, dressing like mother Mary or dressing like Madonna .. all will bring its own judgments...
.. To be continued with all the things that are wrong with us. :)
كل دموع الأرض لا تستطيع أن تحمل زورقاً صغيراً يتسع لأبوين لحظة عودة طفلهما المفقود :)