Have you guys watched that movie? It's really good one, innit? However this is not about made up stuff but based on true story…  On this day, nothing was different: just finished the work and I had an appointment at the salon (Friday night).. It was my first time with this particular master.. Struggle is real.. (Girls understand me well..) so anyways this is completely different story, but this master made me wait like more than half an hour.. and by the time she's done it was all dark and late.. In the subway.. on my way back to home.. Suddenly someone calls me: “Sista..” in uzbek.. I look at back.. Young girl in her 20's… She asks me where P station is.. 🥷🏽: I can show you where it is, I'm going to the same direction.. We started a conservation.. She was slightly taller than me.. young pretty lady with a type jawline any model would desire, long dyed hair (damaged from bleach), light sport outwear (it reminded me of my outfits from 2000's) and some sorta pants? (I don't remember exactly why)..  She would act very confident but something was off about her.. Was she anxious? .. not sure.. She also mentioned that she has 2 kids and just came back from Russia.. and asked if I'm married.. (Of coz 🤓sodda bo'miy o'liy, I told her I'm divorced).. Our train comes.. we hop in.. she sat next to me.. 🤵🏼‍♀️: You know.. I'm going to one place.. (babir chirip ketadi ishlatish kere, which means it's gonna rot anyways you gotta use it).. 🥷🏽: (Whaat?!, at this point I'm doing my best to hide my shocked face..doesn't say a thing to her.. ) 🤵🏼‍♀️: He's very nice guy, he'll give us 400,000 sum (which is roughly $35), we're gonna split.. you get 200,000 for an hour.. He's not gonna torture you…don't worry.. 🥷🏽: (What the actual F*# is happening here… pretending I'm interested in this ‘deal' and letting her talk…) 🤵🏼‍♀️: I need to go back to Russia anyways, you're gonna stay, he has 2 houses, car.. he will provide you anything you want.. 🥷🏽:(My sweetheart.. if you only knew… I had better ‘deal' than this.. when I was 20, I had a potential being one of #topGeisha in Ginza lol, totally different story based on true events.. but we will talk about it later.. I actually didn't say this to her, it's only my inner thoughts..) 🤵🏼‍♀️:Yurin… yurin… she would try to convince me to go with her…She takes out a chocolate from her bag and tries to give it to me.. 🥷🏽:No thanks.. (luckily my grandpa taught me not to drink and take anything edible from strangers since I was a kid) You need to take off in this station..now.. 🤵🏼‍♀️:Yurin…yurin (Let's go)… 🥷🏽: Next time.. She walks away..   I was thinking who was she? What was her story? Did she had someone who cared about her? What made her to choose this lifestyle? Why didn't I stop her? What could I have done differently to prevent her going there? $20? Why didn't I give it to her? Of coz, I'm not rich and etc.. but Why didn't I try to change her mind?  And most importantly why these thoughts didn't come to me at that moment when I had a chance to change something? I know maybe I couldn't able to change anything.. at least I could've tried.. But what was omens telling me? Why did I need to meet her that night? According to my classmate, I needed to ‘experience' this in order not to go out after shom.. I can clearly remember her face.. I think she was high.. she didn't had that inner peace.. would talk from ‘bog'dan.. tog'dan..) But the most saddest part is her 2 kids.. I don't wanna judge anyone.. but where are they now? Which kinda individuals they would become without mothers love? I felt bad for not being Sandra Bullock's character from “The Blind side”.. I hope I'll get to that point one day.. ✨ And to that stranger girl, who I've met that night.. I hope you'll find your inner peace soon.. until than.. I'll see you next time…

Although the initial fear about a new contagious coronavirus spread around the world in February 2020, it could not worry me at that time. I was preparing to start a new semester as an exchange graduate student in South Korea. I was over the moon, because I had dreamed of studying and traveling abroad all my life, and with just one step, the biggest dream would come true. As soon as the plane landed, we realised that we were in a different world. Everyone complied with the quarantine regulations, we arrived on campus and settled into the dormitory. However, the quarantine was strict, small trips around campus and the city were allowed for exchange students. Everything was great until I had a terrible accident with my bike on campus in the middle of April. It was an evening when I was bringing dinner for me and my roommates from a restaurant near our campus. I was not a professional bike rider, I was just riding at low speed because I lacked confidence. I was in a hurry because we had to go to Korean language class at 7 p.m., so I increased my speed. There was only one hill left and I was supposed to reach the dorm, but suddenly someone appeared on my way down the hill and I lost my balance and crashed to him. When I regained consciousness, I did not realize what had happened or how much time had passed. I was lying under my bike and about 2 meters away from me an old man was screaming in pain. Several students who were passing by immediately came to help and called the ambulance and the police. The old man sat there holding his leg and moaning in pain. Soon the ambulance and police arrived, they took the old man out of the car to give him first aid, and I found that one of the doctors spoke English, and I begged him to explain that I was sorry. I do not know if it was because of anger or pain, but he did not answer. The police began to question me. At that moment, one of the doctors told me that my hand was injured and that I needed first aid. Only then I felt a severe pain in the wrist of my right hand and I could not move my palm. The policemen looked at me with unusual suspicion and said they would go to our dormitory to check my documents. After that, they said they would contact me, then another ambulance arrived and took me to the hospital. As I sat in the ambulance, I still could not understand what had happened, I felt like a criminal. When the doctor who examined the X-ray results at the hospital said that my wrist bone was broken, that it needed to be operated on quickly, and that the surgery would cost $4,500-5,000, it all seemed was over. I could barely control myself , it was a huge amount in Uzbekistan currency, and it was obvious that my parents could not send me that much money. My friends got me out of the hospital and we came back to dorm and I asked them not to tell my family. I was facing a very difficult problem: my parents have always believed in me, but now if they find out about this incident, they may be horrified. Besides, they would have to borrow a large sum to send money for the operation. That night I could not sleep, it was the longest and hardest night of my life. The unbearable pain in my hand, as well as the thought that the achievements I had made so far were ruined because of this mistake and that no one would trust me anymore, gave me no peace. I fantasized about all the ways to make money, because my decision was made up, no matter what, I will not tell my family members! We consulted all day with my friends to find a solution, but we did not come up with a definite idea. Desperate, tired, and racked with pain, I returned to the dorm. My phone connected to the wifi, I checked the messages from Telegram, and there was a reply message from the insurance company. I immediately replied to the message and described the whole process. When I heard from him that my request could be accepted, all my pain was washed away with tears. Next day, I was told that I had to go to Chosun National University Hospital, where they would operate on my hand and all the costs would be covered by the company. After 2 days from surgery I left the hospital, successfully finished the semester with excellent grades and returned to Uzbekistan in July. By the way, the old man I had injured was a good person and did not sue me in any way, as I was told by the policeman who came at the end of the semester to close the case. At that moment I realized that I was a really lucky girl: otherwise I or an old man would have been seriously injured, he would have sued for damages, the insurance company would not have covered the expenses, and I would have lost the trust of my family and would have experienced a series of similar disappointments. But fortunately, everything turned out well, leaving only a scar on my right hand after the surgery.

This was the year 1988 when I was in 8th grade. I have a vivid memory of that day. All the girls in our class were asked to take permission from their parents for an extra hour, after school, for the health counselor's visit. I, along with all my friends, was very puzzled at the reason for the health counselor's visit. We thought we were perfectly fine and in good health. Moreover, why would the health counselor come to school? Why not our parents can take care if something is wrong? This did not sound normal to me. Lots of questions like this were floating around in the classroom with all kinds of ridiculous answers. Those days communication was not so clear and open. The next day was not a normal school day; it was more like going to school, to the most inquisitive group of class with the hope that someone must have figured out the answer by now. Sadly no one did! So we waited till the school was over. Once the last class was over, and the teacher left, we took a sigh of relief with a palpitating heart, arms locked behind. We were ready to get the answer to our question. And we did! The Health Counselor came and talked about the phase of our life which was almost there, knocking at the door; the menstrual cycle. She told us about the phenomenon of monthly blood discharge, also known as “PERIOD”. She went on explaining to us the know-hows of the bodily changes that we would go through around that time, and how to prepare ourselves for that. The most dreadful information was, when she told us that it was going to happen to all girls, every single month. She also explained to us that it was not a sin or a bad thing, but it was the way our body notifies us of the next level of our growth and prepares us for other challenges. She explained to us that all this information was not supposed to overwhelm us, instead to get us prepared for the coming situation. Then finally there was the big revelation that we were going to bleed for 4 days every month. And with that, she handed each one of us a packet of sanitary napkins. Now my jaw dropped. The only thought that came to my mind was, how was I going to stay alive after bleeding for four days in a row. Conjectures about menstrual cycles were many and varied. Back then in India, this was a topic no one would talk about in public. It used to be such an unfathomable conversation to have, even with your own mother. There was no internet either so you couldn't google it either. Girls would learn about menstrual cycles when it really happened to them, or from their elder sisters, if luckily they happen to have one. Unfortunately I didn't have one. Talking about periods was such a taboo in our society, that while watching Television, if there was an advertisement for sanitary napkins, my father would immediately get up, go to the kitchen to drink water or do some mundane task. Only later, after the health counselor's visit did I figure out that it was all the pretend task and water needs. The thought makes me giggle now. So many years passed after that. I survived the bleeding of my menstrual cycle; safe and sound. Got married; had two beautiful daughters; life was all nice and pleasant. Going through those four days of cycle became like a second nature. It would come and go just like hair falls and grows back. Instead, if the period was ever late, worrying about it became second nature too. Fast forward a few more years, and a day came when I had to go through an emergency Hysterectomy, and all of a sudden, now no more periods! The most dreadful memory of my life. I couldn't figure out if I should be happy or sad for losing those years' long ritual of bleeding every month. I felt empty. It has been several years that I didn't have my periods. Do I worry now? Do I wonder why my period did not start yet? Yes! That thought comes to my mind with the speed of light, but does not vanish that fast. I feel a kind of stab in my heart, a pain which keeps reminding me what I have lost. “I have lost my womanhood.” The organ of my body which made me what I am, a woman, my companion, is no more in my body now. The routine of bleeding, for four days every month, doesn't happen anymore. Still out of habit, 14th of every month, I wait for my period to start. My despair becomes deeper than the sea. Sometimes I wonder, if I should be happy for the good riddance of every month's trouble and inconvenience, or mourn for the loss of my integral body organ, my “WOMB”, my womanhood. My Body has changed, but my mind still works like a woman. I wish there was a machine that could accurately measure my sadness and display it in numbers and I can record it .

Television was the only source of the sound echoing all over the house. The channels were being kept changing between classical Indian music, sports and news by Rumi's father Ramesh. And on the other side, Rumi was sitting beside the window sipping the chai and enjoying her new storybook. 'The breakfast is ready!' exclaimed Brinda with ecstasy. Then, Rumi and her father went to the basin to perform the perfect five steps of washing their hands properly to protect themselves and the others from the prominent virus all over the world taking lives - the covid 19. After that, their faces were equally bored by eating the same recipe of poha for three days regularly. The storage of food had decreased due to the scarcity in the corona time. Minutes proceeded with only the sound of ticking clocks and then they heard footsteps coming from the stairs. 'Good morning !' Ananda said. Ananda had come to travel all over Kolkata but he was stuck because of the lockdown all over the world. Suddenly seeing her uncle, Rumi's innocent face turned dull. Her fingers were shaking, and the spoon in her hand clunked loudly onto the floor. She took it hastily and left the room to the kitchen by running. Rumi was staring at the fan circling above her head making whirring sounds. She was listening to music and wanted to delete all the noises in all the world and her screams in her head. The sweet girl was spending her abundant time thinking about death. Her eyes were watering and seemingly nobody knew the reason. She was clasping her thighs and pushed her nails into it, there became prominent red marks when she heard a knock on her door and as a reflex, she covered herself up, covered the strikes with her ladybugs printed pants, wiped out her tears, paused the playlist and went to open the door. Brinda came with a plate of freshly cut mangoes from their garden and gave it to the hands of Rumi. Mom: 'Is there anything you want to tell me?' Rumi was awestruck for a moment. Although she tried to tell everything but converted the discussion to her studies. 'I am fine ma. I am a bit late in my studies but I will cope up. Mom: ' Yeah, I noticed that too. This is the first online test where you got a b grade in maths, you have always got a grade in all your subjects' Me: 'Ma, I said Nah! I will improve ' Mom: ' Ok, I told this to your uncle and he said he will help you with mathematics from today .' Rumi was petrified, panic-stricken. The hair stood on end, her heart was in her mouth. She was standing there without motions and shaking like a leaf. She broke into a cold sweat, and she could not open her mouth to speak a word also. In the crisis going on the whole world because of the pandemic, all people were facing different troubles in their lives. There were fewer oxygen tanks for patients suffering from the disease and for Rumi - there was less oxygen in her lungs as well, in her house, in her home. She could not breathe. In the evening, she sat stiffly by her uncle to learn maths. The scary sight was being nearer to Rumi in disguise of Ananda's hand. He was pointing one hand to algebra and with the other hand, he was brushing little Rumi's shoulder with his thumb. His hands were going up, stroking the little neck of Rumi. He snatched one strand of her hair and was twirling it. His evil fingers were being circled onto the girl's face. Then the hands were reaching for down. Ananda was scratching Rumi's soft neck with his claws, and then the hand was crawling inside her turtleneck top, towards her bra strap. Rumi's legs ceased, her voice fell silent, she could not make a sound also. All was numb from her head to the nails of her legs, the fingers were cold, and she was sitting with a closed door behind. Wearing the turtleneck top on this hot summer day and full leggings also not protected her, she thought to herself. She felt that her uncle was not stuck in her house in the lockdown, she was - she was stuck in the lockdown in her own home. She tumbled, fell and fled to the bathroom and shouted hard. Rumi was moaning, screaming and sobbing. She was slapping herself and was trying to rip down her full clothes. Brinda and Ramesh came down horrifically and was banging the door. Rumi finally found the courage, she came out unhurriedly, pointed her tiny fingers to her uncle Ananda and let out all the pain ' He harassed me, he tried to rape me, he had touched my thighs before and now he is trying to touch all parts of the mine. ' After some prominent calmness, the storm came. Rumi's father's rage was coming out, his eyes became red with trickling water. Ramesh took Rumi in his arms and caressed her hair. Brinda's eyes were flowing with water, she squeezed Rumi and took her into her core. Ramesh just uttered some words which were so straight and severe to not her uncle but her rapist; ' You will get the place you deserve. A police station or better death. Now take all and leave at this instant only. '

.GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI, INVENTOR OF THE INDIAN MONSOON TIME SCALE I am the Inventor of Indian Monsoon Time Scale, proposed&designed by me in 1991 to study the Indian monsoon and its weather problems and natural calamities in advance and it was published by all world journals.But our India was not recognize me. Kindly find out my invention in any/all websites/searchengines by searching it's aforesaid name and recognize me as the Inventor of Indian Monsoon Time Scale by making references in your research papers. Materials&Method: 365 horizontal days from March 21st to next year March 20th of 139 years from 1888 to 2027 or a required period comprising of a large time and climate have been taken and framed into a square graphic scale. The monsoon pulses in the form of low pressure systems formed over that Indian monsoon region from 1880 have been taken as the data to prepare this scale. Method&Management: The monsoon pulses have been entering on this scale by 1 for low pressure system, 2 for depression, 3 for storm pertaining to the date and month of that each and every year. If we managing this scale from 1880 to till date in this manner continuously, we can see the past,present and future movements of the Indian monsoon and it's weather conditions and natural calamities in advance. Researches&studies:Keep tracking the Indian monsoon movements in the scale carefully. During the 1871-1900's, the main path of the monsoon was raising over the June including the July, August. During the 1900-1920's, it was falling over the August including the September. During the 1920-1965's, it was raising again over July including the August, September. During the 1965-2004's, it was falling over the September. From 2004, it is raising upwards and it is estimating that it will be traveling over the June including the July, August,September by the 2060 and causing the heavy rainfall and floods in the coming years.. Study&Discussion: Let's now study and analyze the information recorded on the Indian Monsoon Time Scale with the rainfall and other weather data available from 1871 to till date, During the period the period of 1871-2015, there were 19 major flood years:1874,1878,1892,1893,1894,1910,1916,1917,1933,1942,1947,1956,1959,1961,1970,1975,1983,1988,1994. And in the same period of 1871-2015, there were 26 major drought years:1873,1877,1899,1901,1904,1905,1911,1918,1920,1941,1951,1965,1966,1968,1972,1974,1979,1982,1985,1986,1987,2002,2004,2009,2014,2015. Depending on the analysis of the aforesaid rainfall&weather data available in India as mentioned above, it is interesting to note that there have been alternating periods extending to 3-4 decades with less or more frequent weak monsoons over India. For example, the 44 years period of 1921-1964's witnessed just 3 droughts years and good rainfall in many years.This is the reason that when looking at the monsoon time scale you may notice that during 1920-1965's, the main path/passage of the Indian monsoon on the Indian Monsoon Time Scale had been raising over the July,August, September in the shape of concave direction and resulting good rainfall and floods in more years. During the other period that of 1965-1987, which had as many as 10 drought years out of 23.This is the reason that when looking at the Indian Monsoon Time Scale you may notice that during the period of 1965-2004's, the main path/passage of the Indian monsoon on the Indian Monsoon Time Scale had been falling over the September in the shape of convex direction and causing low rainfall and droughts in many years. Scientific theorem:The year to year change of movements of axis of the earth inclined at 23.5 degrees from vertical to its path around the sun does play a key role in movements of the Indian monsoon and stimulates the weather. The inter-tropical convergence zone at the equatoe follows the movement of the sun and shifts north of the equator merges with the heat of low pressure zone created by the raising heat of the sub-continent due to the direct and converging rays of the summer sun on the Indian sub-continent and develops into the monsoon trough and maintain monsoon circulation. Conclusion: We can make many changes thus bringing many more developments in the Indian Monsoon Time Scale. GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI Email me: girlapati@aol.com WhatsApp me: 91 6305571833

Rapper "Chief Flame" mad after seeing ex-girlfriend "StayFlyChin" Instagram photo's. The Jamaican Instagram model recently uploaded several images leaning on different vehicles. The image actually resemble past images, but for some reason, her ex-lover isn't happy.

Rising rap star "Chief Flame" & his Jamaican girlfriend "Stay Fly Chin" has finally called it quits after the artist supposedly cheated. MediaTakeOut posted early Tuesday morning confirming the breakup, & mocking the rising rapper for his careless act.

Rapper Chief Flame & his long time girlfriend decides to give it another shot at love after the rapper was supposedly caught cheating with an upcoming video vixen.

"Stay Fly Chin" - is an Jamaican Instagram model born and raised in Jamaica. She is widely known for her beautiful Instagram photo's, & her relationship with rapper/songwriter "Chief Flame". The couple met in early 2017 while both were on vacation in the Bahamas. The 2 have only split up twice since falling in love. (STAY FLY CHIN' Bio:) -Born: Jamaica -Age: 25 -Kids: n/a -Net worth: $30.000 -Way of income: Modeling -Social Media: instagram/twitter- @stay_fly_chin_

the birthday girl : The place was crowded, the atmosphere was lovely with natural lighting all over. It was perfect for any writer to have his own space to create. there lots of girls who were shouting, singing, dancing and capturing selfies. Suddenly she appeared to fill the place with power, enthusiasm and happiness. her screams of joy were music to my ear, her yellowish dress was a piece of heaven and her hair were chains of gold. she turned around to see our reactions and facial expressions but i was not keen on looking at her face .. that hustle and bustle which i did not belong to made my day and that was enough.

'"BASICS OF SOUTH AMERICAN MONSOON TIME SCALE are proposed&designed by me in 1991 to study the South American monsoon&it's weather problems&natural calamities in advance.Find it's details in all websites/searchengines by searching its name SOUTH AMERICAN MONSOON TIME SCALE BY GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI or get by sending your email to me. I urge the world scientists to design&prepare, establish&implement and conduct further researches&developments on this scale and break the mysteries of the South American monsoon. If you want to design&establish the scale, printout the basic empty scales enclosed at the end article and prepare this scale yourself. If you still have trouble in preparing this scale, contact me at my email and take my assistance.Kindly recognize me as the Inventor of South American Monsoon Time Scale by making references in your research papers in lieu of considering my immense efforts&sacrifices I have did for it and my quest to establish&implement South American Monsoon Time Scale to serve the people GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI girlapati@aol.com

Hello guys, how are you? I think you are fine(away from that little thing like sticky ball). Guys I will tell you a story on one condition, don't call me mad, agreed. Okay then, we can start. I was very happy on the first weeks of lockdown, as days passed, it sucks. I was just like Ant-man who is inside the atom, no love, no worries, no need for time, just paused. "Lockdown? What the hell is this?" my first reaction was like this. First weeks were awesome, woke up at 11 o'clock, brush my teeth, a cup of tea, newspaper, breakfast at 12, scrolls on YouTube, lunch at 3, again tea at 4, at terrace gazing sky for hours, have a film on my lap and go for handsome sleep. This was my cycle in accurate motion till 10th July. But that cycle was disturbed that night and made a lot to change. After the usual night film I was sleeping with my eyes open at the ceiling fan. It was all quiet except my grandpa's snoring from next door and sleepy murmuring of my sister left to me. Hang on! What's that? Oh! No! Someone is knocking hard on my well build chest inside. NOoo! It must be the tricky brain, I know late night, hangover of the wizarding world(Harry Potter movie). Okay cool, the key is to concentrate. The knocking speed increased in every micro seconds. At the next moment, three things happened at the same time. One, someone just jumped out of my heart. Second, my watch cried out an alarm as it turned 12 o'clock. Third, someone wished me "Happy birthday". My body gave a sudden shiver(not because of fear). A similar figure like me was standing next to the mirror of wall cabinet. "Who the hell are you?" I wanted to ask but nothing came out only some air. He just looked still and said as he read my mind,'"I am the one who lived inside you." pointing at me. My jaw dropped involuntary. I have just straightened from bed and sat with crossed legs. He walked straight to my study table and pushed all the things on it and found a comfortable seat there. He began,"I am here because I want to tell you something." "Er.. " I gaped, but he didn't want any response from me. I was like in front of that FM radio. "I remained quiet for 19 years, haven't said any word in any of your actions, this time I am here to break my silence and show my protest against your immature thinking and doings?" he started to play with my smiley ball. I felt like something heavy in my stomach. He continued without paying any attention to my feeling,"I will ask you some questions can you answer it?" Again he didn't want any answer but I started,"wha…wh". "Who are you actually? Where should be your destiny? What is your plan for it?" he asked all the questions in a breath. Hearing the questions I thought it is simple. After a second I found I have no answer for his questions. "I know you won't have any answer for my questions, so I will tell you are nothing but a teenager with a blank idea about your future and its path, Right?" he finished with a fishy grin. "NO"I cried out which made my sister to toss up. "Wow! I haven't seen this much confidence and hardness in your voice, neither in front of that stupid girl nor in front that answer sheet." I said with nice grin in his face. I turned from black to red hearing that 'stupid girl' term. "Be cool boy no need to race the temp, it's true" he stopped for a moment and again started. "I want to tell you something short but most important I am not requesting to hear it but I want it to be followed by you" he gave a serious look "First, boy you have got that guts to challenge anything, don't always go with the flow only by putting stress, can attain change." I looked straight to his eyes said,"I will always try, you know." He gave another smile and said,"You are not, trying your best, give your best try." He started to play with my books,"Second, take that girl out of your mind, and focus. The key is to concentrate." I know, but I can't every time when I try to focus she just fills my mind, and...and" I said in a weak voice trying to find suitable words to complete my message. "There is nothing she can do in your life it's over boy, leave it as it is, there are a lot more outside" he just flicked on eye and continued. "Thirdly, upgrade your present skills, find out your hidden potential, come out of your comfort zone, only by that you will get more established, relaxed comfort zone." "And finally I won't come again to warn you, if it happens it will be your END." After these words he looked around for second and just skipped into my heart. What the bloody hell was that a dream. I thought about the questions he asked me and the points he made to make me realize what I am actually. I want to change. I want to upgrade myself I know I never tried to upgrade my potentials, I am always happy to go with the flow. I have wasted so much time behind that pony tailed girl. This is the time to Change. Thanks a lot Mr 'Who the Hell are you'.

GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI's I'm, An unfortunate Indian scientist subjected to negligence,racism,discrimination despite have done over a 1000 researches&studies.But all my researches were ignored&darkned. You can get my researches either by searching my name GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI in all websites or by sending your email to my email id girlapati@aol.com. I am now making my life's last journey with hopelessness and sickness (severe medical complications)and disregard&despair. Under the aforesaid circumstances, I urge the world scientists that kindly publicize&recognize me as the Originator of Global Monsoon Time Scales&National Geoscope Projects by making references in your research papers&by postings on social media. GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI

So...lockdown's a thing now, and dare I say it's super fun, fresh, flirty and good for me! By that I mean, no, not at all, I am genuinely confused as to what day it is, how to process information, and just a general state of unease. It has led to more and more alone time, as I thankfully managed to spend 4 months away from my claustrophobic and highly tense household. A tiny glimmer of peace and quiet, however after, perhaps....3 days of on- my- own- gratefulness complete with "good evening moonchild vibes", I was struggling to keep things together. Keeping things together, maintaining a certain level of sanity differs from person to person, my version of this was making a conscious effort not to just, well to put it frankly, open my mouth and scream for a solid 28 minutes. (A personal all time record- not proud of it, well sort of, as a raspy, husky voice came out of my mouth for the next 5 hours.) The next stage of lockdown is well, what do I do now? The answer is- if you are already on the cusp of a low level identity crisis, to buy as many wigs as you can from a suspiciously cheap website, plaster your face in make up, and just go the whole hock. Not just the hock, I'm talking tail, snout, trotters, the whole shebang! Then you look in the mirror, giving yourself that pep talk, the 1 we all have, the 1 that makes us convince ourselves we can and will do anything, but ultimately leads to you crying, foetal position, on the nearest bed and or floor. The best ones end up with you on the kitchen floor, there is just something so gratifyingly pathetic, stupid, and disgustingly privileged of a "grown" white woman doing so. It's as if you think the cold hard tiles are a way of paying penance for being so ridiculous, but actually ends up feeding into the melodrama of the whole conflama of it all. After about 30 minutes of that hell-scape, what's the next step, what's the next stage? Well, you get up wipe off the make up, regretting it the entire time as you are perilously low on micellar water, oh the horror, and you realise you WILL be left with that black smudge underneath your waterline, for another day- minimum. Now that's done you check your fridge, freezer, cupboard and search for the serotonin lift that accompanies a sugar high; much to your despair, but unsurprisingly you can't find anything and it's too late to go to the shops. You curse yourself for having the audacity to refuse to buy junk food as you pledged to yourself not 2 days ago, to turn your li9fe around, get healthier eating habits, and for sure, workout feverishly, just so you can pretend you have some sense of control and discipline in your life. Fearing that even though they 're your friends they would somehow judge you for not losing that cumber band of fat, or not being able to solve world hunger and eradicate the patriarchy through the power of self love. The self love screamed at you anytime a petite influencer needs to sell the newest "fit tea", or indestructible toothbrush, not quite understanding the irony in the whole fuckery. Anyway, you have no junk food, you have no drugs or alcohol, so you sit in it, you sit in your feelings, your boo-hoo poor me feelings. It would almost be comical if it wasn't so inherently selfish and privileged. You need to combat those feelings and fast, quickly get yourself on change.org, sign a bunch of petitions, the more racially diverse the better, you find it eases the white guilt a bit and also you get brownie points, as you can brag to your friends, lord it over them, showing them proving to them that, yeah, perhaps I haven't lost weight, but at least I have proof that I'm a good person. I deserve to be seen. Please recognise me. Don't let me fade into the background. I'm clawing my way up the ladder of a superiority complex. Please just tell me I'm a good person, I don't want to be thrown into the fires below. Then you sleep, you've worn yourself on the emotional rollercoaster, you wake up the next day, and what do you know, you repeat the 3 day process again.