photo diary: eleutheromania

Words make me so curious. They can make or break people, they can hold a kingdom or start riots that could collapse the very same kingdom. But some words hold universes within their meanings. It's almost ironic how an arrangement of alphabets can be so so powerful that a thousand emotions, with all their glory, are wrapped inside it.

Eleutheromania is one such word that means an irresistible desire for freedom. 

I don't know what I was doing without this word before. Because it just hits home. Freedom means differently for different people. For some, it is hopping on a plane without a second thought yet for some, only stepping out of the house is the prime type of it. The only thing we all have in common is the desire to hold freedom in our palms so that it feels like a crumpled piece of paper, totally in control of the hand holding it.

When I think about freedom, it appears like a web of complex emotions; both the brightest and the darkest. It appears like something that could ruin you if it's gone out of balance. The relationship between balance and freedom is almost as delicate as the china tea set in my grandmother's cupboard that she wouldn't let us kids touch; for all of us knew how precious yet fragile it was.

For me, freedom is making decisions and standing by them even when it means seeing my sky shatter into million pieces and falling down on me with its pieces cutting my skin open, it means roaming around in my city's alleys, both the famous and nameless ones, it means knowing far too well where I am and where I want to be. Freedom is another name of a lifestyle I would love to lead.

here's a photoset that depicts eleutheromania better
Freedom is the only thing I know is truly mine. I keep it within the boundaries set for me, for losing the balance of it is disastrous. The idea of not being free enough to do things on my own is suffocating. And it feels like eleutheromania has affected me far too badly.

If you could describe freedom, how would you do that?
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did your music choose you?!? // collab ft. Brainwavz Audio

I consider music to be a choice people make with their eyes closed yet hearts and ears very very much open. yet the inevitable answer remains the same; why?!?
back in high school, all I wanted to do was to keep up with the latest trends and they obviously included the pop stars that were on fire. but instead of being all embarrassed about it now, it seems like a liberating thing. back when we weren't allowed to make much of life choices, at least the music I listened to was something I chose on my own. liberating.

but music choices evolve. just like Miley Cyrus decided to grow up and started making music I don't get. Of course, then we had to part ways and we did. Miley went her way on a wrecking ball and me, on an occasional middle life crisis. But look, we're having the best times of our lives now. I just thought of Miley Cyrus because she was the very first artist whose album's deluxe editions became my birthday gifts, whose lyrics could always be seen on my notebooks, whose work would stay with me in one form or another wherever I went.

But it changed. I haven't listened to Miley Cyrus in what feels like ages. I used to think it was a growing up things. Like, high-school-me grew out of rock punk insane Cyrus and escaped my way to another artist's work. Turned out it wasn't the case; there was something else in between.

It looks like music chose me the same way I was choosing it. I needed the rebellious music of Miley Cyrus in high school, I needed Selena Gomez's cheery songs in the senior year. But when these eras were done, there was no need for us to stick around. When college started, I got more into the indie bands. Maybe it was the (side) effect of growing up that made me grow out of past's music choices. I felt a little guilty as we proceeded ahead because ditching old choices was almost like scratching off a part of you that you didn't approve of, anymore. But that guilt didn't stay long for it was apparent that i didn't ditch it; I changed the direction.

My current playlist is so full of The 1975 and music that I found via multiple high-sped-make-up-tutorial videos. You see, the ways of finding music also shift. And it sounds and looks and seems weird but so many things in life are impossibly weird and we cannot do anything about them.

The answer to the former why is somewhere in these lines. Maybe you consciously choose your music due to some neurotransmission disorder or music chooses you because your current playlist sucks. I am a bit too sure about the latter.
Ending this whole music talk with the tool that's like my music homie these days - Brainwavz M100 earphones. I owe this post to them. They have the BEST sound quality than my previous pairs and god bless they come with a remote that, along with basic volume buttons, can make songs go forward and rewind without hassle.
It's like my 4th?!? pair of earphones from this company and they're just too good at what they do. M100 have a matte black body that reminds me of expensive sleek cars whose names I can never remember and they're too pleasing to look at.

In the box, there's a travel case, so many spare ear tips (with some bonus Comply Foam Tips T-400), a shirt clip and a velcro cable tie to keep these beauties safe. They have always been THIS generous with accessories. For more ~techy~ info, check out their website

(they are on sale for $89.50 and you can buy them from Brainwavz website or amazon)

Now, it's your turn. Tell me about your music choices and how did you happen to choose them?!? or did they choose you?!? spill the beans, i have way too much music in my head and i need to talk about it
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This post is an artistic collaboration with Brainwavz audio. I received a  product for a review. This post isn't sponsored and I wasn't paid to write this. For more info, check my disclaimer policy.


an open letter to 2017


2017 is sort of like another level of a game that started in 2016 for me. I made some of the biggest decisions in the year that has just gone and this new year is almost like the level where one has to put all pieces of decisions together to shape the final product. Oh and I, too, do not have any idea why I am talking like an economics specialist here (I loved and abhorred this subject in college simultaneously and the traces of it can still be found).

Keeping the tradition of welcoming new years in an ~artsy~ way alive, this is an open letter to my 2017:
letter to 2017 tumblr black aesthetics pinterest flatlay artists ideas inspiration noors place blog

dear 2017,

I had been waiting for you. Not particularly because 2016 was bad or anything, but because I needed to realize how time is going too fast and I need to be prepared. I will turn 20 this August; terrifying if not too-too-too-terrifying. Now that we're already 3 days in and I still do not feel threatened by your presence, let's start this journey.

My word for 2016 was progress. I tried my hardest to make it happen. Now, for you, I had to think hard. Progress was such an impressive one - totally kept me on track. And I certainly want to have something equally effective for you as well. I played words after words in my mind and picked the words my dictionary lacks the most; courage was one of them. So I am picking it for you.

word for 2017: courage

It's a heavy word. 7 alphabets composing one of the most difficult emotions in the world. It wants you to dare, to be something you aren't really sure of being, to forget that fear exists. There couldn't be a more appropriate word for this year.

To be honest, I don't have plans for you. I want to see what plans YOU have for me. Though I am long past the idea of years bringing something as real as sorrow or happiness. It comforts me to know years are only another mean of measuring time and how we've spent our lives, all statistically divided. Yet it's comforting to blame the dates, to blame the digits printed on calendars and appearing on our phone screens. But the idea of statistically divided digits brings one thing for sure; hope. This type of hope is far more comforting than anything else in the world. Counting days and blaming years for catastrophes that totally weren't done by them is definitely something of great pleasure.

I have made goals, I have worried about them, I have wondered about where my life is going; the classical start of a new year. I will set my goodreads goal to 40 books, try to change things from their traditional way of happening, write too much poetry and random words that my notebooks will turn all black with scribbled words, make so much art that there will be a tower of filled journals and a pile of art pieces in my room. I want to make big things happen. I want to try to become more of a human and less of a perpetually confused breathing organism. Oh and I am saying an Insha'Allah in my head as I type this, to seal the deal.

Whatever happens or whatever doesn't happen, I am happy that you're here with all your glory. I only have one request (in spite of me calling you names like statistically divided numbers instead of a year - hope you're not offended): please let me be courageous. I need to be something I haven't really been. I need it for making things happen, things that matter.

I don't know where we are going from here. But I want to make sure to give you the best I can and I know you will return the best you can. Let's do this, dear 2017, the time's here.

With love,

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if you could write a letter to your own 2017, what would you say?
watch GOALS FOR 2017 video on my channel
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