this moment, this single, solitary moment, this moment alone

i hate you but i don't really hate i hate that the day ends before six i hate that i have to write to feel better i hate the dust that gets in the corners of rooms i hate brothers i hate that i try to hate but am nearly incapable of hating i hate that i can't stay mad i hate punctuation i hate capitalization i hate this place i hate my stupid hot cocoa i hate this world i hate my car i hate myself for parking my car under the line after washing it i hate cleaning my room i hate that i am running out of ideas of what i hate i hate that the plug isn't working and my computer is going to die i hate school though it is still vacation i hate credit card i hate stores i hate the mall i hate stupid bimbos i hate emotionally unavailable men i hate emotionally unavailable women i hate myself though not really i hate that i am not that hateful though writing about hate is quite relaxing

i hate this moment but i love the hate in this moment

I wouldn't say I don't care
I wouldn't say I hate you
I wouldn't say I hate you either

I wouldn't call you
I wouldn't look at you
I wouldn't touch you

I would adore him
I would help him
I would please him

I would hurt myself
I would bleed
I would cry

I won't think about you
I won't speak of you
I won't ask you

I won't go there
I won't sit there
I won't be there
or here
or anywhere really

Dizzy

I'm so dizzy right now, but I don't want to miss the chance to feel the amazing sun on my face, the cool breeze on my skin, the warmth from within.

I'm so dizzy right now, but I think I'll risk it.

If you see me collapsed on the side of the road (or just running in circles), just tell the doctor that I simply needed to run in the sun.

Past Perusals

December 21
1:21 p.m.

Who knew that December, apart from being icy and cold, is also wedding season?

On Saturday, December 15, I went to a wedding at the Masjid for a friend of mine. Khylilah and Karimu were married at a small ceremony in a room at the Masjid. The decorations were lovely and the atmosphere familiar. It was a nice wedding masha’Allah. Funny thing: Rasheeda (Khylilah’s sister and a dear friend) forgot the favors at their house. So I volunteered to drive across town to get them. Needless to say (since it was a Muslim wedding) we started an hour late.

Sunday, December 16 brought with it the delight of the nikah of Alia and Mohamad. Engaged for nearly a year and half, the young couple have moved on to this more serious step. Masha’Allah, they are so happy together and blessed to be together.

Last night, Sunday, December 23, I went to a Pakistani wedding. Nohaiyah and Adeel were married at a traditional desi-fied hotel ballroom. Of course the invitation said to be there at 7, I showed up at 9. I was still early.

This coming Wednesday, December 26, I have another wedding event to attend. This ceremony will be held for another frien, Sarah. This is her second wedding, so I pray that Allah bless this union for her and makes things easy for her future. There will be lots and lots of dancing at this wedding, so I’m excited.

Now I must go back in time to the beginning of the month. You see, before any of these weddings happened, another exciting event happened in our family. On Saturday, December 8, my brother Adam was engaged to Samah. They’re both young and happy and in love, masha’Allah. They’ve sort of grew up together and our families both know each other since way back when. It is a relief to finally have them matched up (yeah, it wasn’t always easy) and it’s nice to see that such happy endings (beginnings, rather) do happen. I wish them well (I always liked Samah-and kinda liked Adam :) and look forward to the wedding planning. Did I mention nieces and nephews? ;) So the wedding is planned for the summer (insha’Allah), but nothing’s set in stone. This will be an interesting next 6 months. Alhamdulillah it’s all off to a great start.
***************************************************************
December 27, 2007
6:40 a.m.

I pushed it out with my tongue.
The tooth fell gently, without struggle.
I held it in my hand.
I twisted it between my thumb and index finger.
The tooth looked strong, deceivingly so.
I lamented the loss of my friend.

***

I wonder if it is really my tooth that is keeping me awake right now. I mean it hurts like the dickens, but it may be more. The tooth that fell out in my dream is not the same tooth (teeth rather) that hurts. I know I am not supposed to tell bad dreams (so they say); I know that this one must have a “bad” meaning. I don’t care. I don’t put much in dreams. I don’t really believe in my dreams. I mean, come on. My teeth hurt, I dream of my tooth falling out. Logical (Freud may say emotional).

***

I don’t want to move on.
The other side of loneliness is a scary place.
I don’t really want to go there by myself.
I’d like to visit with a friend, but I hear they frown upon bringing a date.

***

Last night I danced my butt off! AND I got a number! Okay, not quite. Some ladies are trying to hook me up with a Moroccan in New York. I gave her my email address, but I didn’t really want to. I know how I am. I know what I’ll do. I’ll sabotage myself and every chance I’ll get. Emails don’t work for me. Long distances don’t work for me. Meeting new men doesn’t work for me. It’s not that I don’t want to (is it?). I mean it can’t be (can it?). I want to settle down (don’t I?). I do. I’m actually starting to want kids. I mean, me! Me, the girl who has a million and one reasons why NOT to have children. I am starting to really WANT kids (thanks to my best friends for bringing baby fever to Tulsa). I know something is really wrong with me (okay, most people know there’s something wrong with me ;), I just don’t know how to fix it, what to do with it, how to get on with it. Did I mention I have to start email correspondence with a stranger? Dude, this sucks!


****

near death upon the sunrise

sweet hope

ramble on dear friend, i hear you

I can't really explain much. I wish to write it often. I slept with a hole. It wasn't pleasant. I am afraid of so many things yet I have comfort in my fears.

"Not like you"

"Hotels are out of the question"

"Skipping class again?"

Coffeeshop blues

Cold feet lonesome

Reflective misery

Resignation

Tea and cocoa

"He's cute and coming."

"What happened to the last one?"

"So you're gonna let it die?"

"Haram! You can't do that to other people."

"Give them a chance."

I know what's wrong.

For now, I'll just wither away.

For now, I'll sleep.

Sleep til dawn

noon

midday.

Sleep until I wake up

at the beginning of a new world

the end of the last

the second coming

of nearly

nothing.

Every Day

Do you ever wake up in the morning and say to yourself, "Today I'm going to lie to myself"?

Do you ever start your day with a cup of coffee and think, "Today I'm going to lie to everyone else"?

Do you ever wonder how many people wake up and wish they didn't think about the lies eating away at their conscious conscience?

Yeah, me either.

I prefer tea.

Catch up

So much has happened since that day in Ramadan when I wrote last. Funny thing happened that day actually. I happened to write that note one night at school (the university--not the high school). I was supposed to give a presentation on Islam to a group of undergrads studying the Quran in World lit. I've given the presentation many times before, but I was hurried (and harried for that matter) because I was rushing to give the presentation. When I got there, I rushed inside to find the room empty except the professor. Well, it turns out that I had the date wrong. I didn't have a presentation until the week after. Thinking this was okay with me (I mean more time to prepare, and now, more time to get ready for my class the next night thanks to the university computer lab). So I went to the lab, looked up what needed looking up, printed out what needed to be printed out, and surfed the web. I had time to kill and the internet is always calling. I typed that last message. I reflected. I felt lost. And then I went on my merry way to my car.

I locked the keys inside. There they were dangling from the ignition. I actually locked the keys. The car engine wasn't on (Thank GOD!), but the radio was. Despite all this, I didn't freak out (it's not really in my nature to do so). I simply called my brother to bring the spare key. That should solve the problem. So I sat on the grass (that's the romantic in me) and read Quran (I had my copy in my hand since I was going to give the presentation).

It was lovely, until my brother got there.

Well, the key we have at home is the key to the ignition, not the doors (long story, so just take it as it is) and since the battery has been running for a few hours, it's nearly dead and we can't pop the locks with the remote. I still didn't freak out. Still not in my nature.

Only one thing left to do: call campus security. After another 40-50 minutes, we finally pop the door open. I could explain the method we got it open, but it would be a laborious task. Let's just say it took three brains, lots of ingenuity, a few pumps, and patience. Oh, and a lot of hard work!

And to make things better, we then had to have security help jump start the car. It was great fun. (*sarcasm*)

So all in all, I had time to reflect by sitting on the grass with the Quran and not a care in the world (well, except my car and a ride home). Alhamdulillah. :)

Ramadan

I didn't catch the spirit. I have only so many hours left.

I will catch the spirit.

Insha'Allah!

*****

How are you?

There is a big hole in my being. I can't fill it. I can't ignore it.

There is a smaller gap in my existence. It can be filled. It has to be ignored.

Void. Cold. Bare.

Scared. Alone. Weak.

Fake. Empty. Blank.

Stronger than you think; Weaker than I believe.

Deperate. Sad. Open.

"I'm fine, alhamdulillah."

It is scary to be so frank. It is good to have a venue to be so real. It is unbelievably relieving to just write the words though I can never say them aloud. This is only one way I exist, this blog. This is the way that I am able to exist in real life. Here I don't have to pretend. Here I don't have to be anything. Here I just am. Though this is not the complete ME.

COLD

It's like the wind was knocked out of me.

AGAIN.

I could hardly breath. I didn't know whether to smile or resume my normal stance. Should I smile, reply? Should I let him hug me though I am so angry I could spit in his face? Should I look him in the eye and tell him how I feel now?

No.

Instead, when he gave me that have hug with his hand on my side, I could barely look at him. I was there in a crowd of people and I barely looked at him. I let him hug me. I let him say salams to me. I gave him a brownie and then let him walk away from me.

I stood there talking to people, selling the rest of the cookies and brownies and pizza. I talked to people casually. But my mind was with him. He shook the ground beneath me. His presence sent me somewhere else. The tears nearly gave it all away. But I can't be so clear in front of so many. Instead, I just stood there and let the world pass by as I gasped for breath.

My brother broke my heart, my trust, my love. However, I'm the one suffering.

I let him walk away. AGAIN.

As the world turns...

The beginning:

I quit my job. I turned around and walked out of the door, forward to new thresholds, new experiences. I decided to move on. Bitter I don't want to be. Clear hatred I never to emit. Despise I never want to do. So I had to leave. Sometimes you have to leave in order to move forward. I felt that I had to walk away in order to ever walk back in. I haven't left them in the dust. I haven't left them alone. But they just won't see me everyday. Maybe it's a good thing. Last year was the worst year I've ever had. This is my year of sorrow...it hasn't really stopped yet, though I'm momentarily happy. Alhamdulillah for everything.

Friday:

On the bus with fifty kids on the way to our summer school field trip, my phone rang, I didn't recognize the number so I thought it was a parent. It wasn't: Union HS, interview, Monday morning.
Thirty minutes later I recieved a second phone call: Broken Arrow offered me a job teaching junior and senior ELL (English language learners) English classes. I didn't really want this job. At the second interview, the lady (principal maybe?) answered all the questions for me. Yeah, super annoying! I kept checking my watch wondering if I could just let her finish the interview for me! :) I tentatively accepted, feeling deceptive all the while.

Monday:

Interview went well. After spending an entire weekend with about sixty girls at the Masjid in OKC, I was finally asleep in my own bed. How comfy it was, I almost didn't get up. I rolled out of bed, put any decent thing I could find on and went on to my interview thinking that I didn't care whether or not I got it; sleep deprivation will do that to ya. I made dua anyway.

The interview was awesome, alhamdulillah. I liked the panel that interviewed me. I was at ease (well, I generally am, confidence is not usually lacking). I spoke with passion (I almost can't help it when I talk about teaching). I was honest. I told them BA waited for my response. I asked to be told one way or the other ASAP. With many interviews later that day, they'd probably call early in the morning.

Two hours later I landed the job. Alhamdulillah.

Now:

Peace will always be in my heart, on my mind, and part of my being. I have yet to give it up completely. Everything I can supply from my new post, I shall.

Meanwhile, my education must grow. My experiences must blossom. I must become better at being everything I want. It's all in my grasp now, insha'Allah. I just have to take it all. I am excited. I am deeply saddened. I can't explain it all. Too many things all at once have successfully weighed me down. Alhamdulillah for a job at least. Now I can go to school (THEY PAY $75 A SEMESTER HOUR!!!!!!! :) and finish everything I want, insha'Allah.

Future:

I have a plan. I'm putting it into action. I can't explain now. I will. Just better when somethings have already been accomplished insha'Allah.

Alhamdulillah. Alhamdulillah. Alhamdulillah!

REALITY CHECK: I am happy to have a job. I HAVE A JOB!!! ALHAMDULILLAH :)

My Fair Lady `I Could Have Danced All Night`

My, how I love this!

Is art really art
if not admired?

Is love really love
if not reciprocated?

Can I really be me
if I can't have you?

***

I guess I go out to be found.

You can't very likely be found if you are in the house, can you?

If I can't really find myself,

I'll just wait until someone finds me.

***

Crap, now I have to go before the wrong person finds me.

I just raised my voice. How can you call it a mistake? We had so much fun that weekend. I don’t like being punished (or feeling like I am) for what I didn’t do.

Today I thought of taking off my hijab. I would never do it, insha’Allah. But I thought it. And for a moment, I could almost feel the wind in my hair. I could almost imagine what it would be like. The breeze through my hair! But I thought of how everything would be the same in the world, except I would be out of sorts. And I took the thought out of my head. I shut off the whispers. I felt the breeze on my face. I dreamed of it in my hair.

Personal Truths

Well, last night I started this really cool writing project. I decided to write down as many of my thoughts as I possibly could. My mind is rather fragmented, so I knew it would be crazy. But the truth is that I walk around and think of short quips that I want to share with someone. Then again, my blog is the most important....umm, person (?) in my life. (Darn, I've sunk so low :).

So anyway, I've written seven pages already. Yeah, I know: CRAZY! But it was seriously the most fun I've had writing (that and describing my dreams...which I still have a few to write). So now I'm gonna post it all, even though I'll probably regret it (it's 7 pages!). This should be interesting.

Oh, and this is not the end of my project. I think I will keep up with my "Personal Truths" and continue to update all my one-liners (or small paragraph-ers). Life is short, write it out.

***********

Julia Stiles is probably my favorite actress; she has an English degree from Columbia.

I love Jane Austen; she never married though she wrote the best novels.

“Pan’s Labyrinth” was the one of the best movies I’ve ever seen. (Reader---if in fact people still read what I write…if they ever did---if you have not seen this movie, stop everything and do it now. SERIOUSLY!)

I don’t really know how NOT to be in teacher mode.

I hate books that have mistakes that could have been caught by a good author (or a normal English teacher).

I tend to edit what I read (especially if written by foreigners).

I hate books about Islam that are in English because they are generally poorly edited.

If a book has mistakes, I usually cannot continue to read them.

Imam Zaid Shakir writes extremely eloquently, masha’Allah.

I have masochistic tendencies. I have the scars to prove it. Even after all these years, I still have a way of noticing…

I love foreign films; subtitles are fun.

There are levels to secrets; these are only topical.

I love running by the river. It’s always cooler there.

I love it when someone I’ve never met cheers me on when I run. It’s so utterly nice.

Once I gave my number to a guy in the car next to mine when he asked me for it. I was so flattered that I don’t think I knew what I was doing. I was so shocked afterwards that I immediately changed my voicemail to just the number so he wouldn’t leave a message. He eventually stopped calling. I’m still flattered. I’m still in shock.

My friend once accidentally used lip liner as eye liner when we were on our way to a party at a friend’s house. We laughed about it in the car. Tonight when I did the same thing, I laughed out loud as I sat in my car. It looked nice anyway; the laugh was great too.

John Mayer is amazing. Actually, he doesn’t know it yet, but he’s really a Muslim. Oh, and he’s also my husband. Maybe someone should let him know! J

Poetry is the best form of writing. There are no conventions to follow necessarily. You can choose the words and the lines and the punctuation (or lack thereof), and everything you write and every way you write it matters. Most importantly, it matters to you. Poetry is better than pictures or food or touching; it is the picture of the world as you see it, the food that tempts the sensuous appetite, the touch that leaves you satisfied yet wanting more. Poetry exceeds my words.

I don’t believe in erasing what I write on my blog. I mean, I thought it, I wrote it, it was, it is, too late. No shame in what’s already not in my hands.

I don’t really regret, I just learn.

I don’t want kids, but I think I secretly do. Sometimes I see a baby and love him/her. Sometimes I threaten the world with my imaginary kids.

I want to have a child with red hair. I used to look at the single guys and think, “I just might get to have my red headed child if I marry him…” Man was I immature. ( I still do this.)

I’m rational. In an irrational, emotional kinda way.

It is totally irrational to have children. It is pretty irrational to get married. It’s a good thing God gave us emotions.

“I’m only good at being young. So I play the numbers game to find a way to say that life has just begun.” John Mayer (a.k.a. my husband---see above) singing “Stop This Train” from his album Continuum.

I bought Continuum. I don’t regret it.

I usually don’t like a CD/song on the first go. It has to simmer in the background for a while. I have to be able to sing along to love it.

I love flowers. I buy them for the house all the time. My mom loves to be gifted flowers; who doesn’t? Flowers make the world colorful. Flowers are an easy way to happiness.

My best friend just married yesterday. I cried because I wasn’t there. I cried to myself because things will never be same.

My other friend just had a baby. A baby. Alhamdulillah. A baby boy. Unbelievable. When did they all decide to grow up without me?

I want to slow dance. I want to play a song and slow dance with someone. (Preferably my husband---John Mayer J)

I can’t be serious for very long; it’s against my philosophy.

Confidence is what really makes a woman attractive; nice boobs help too. J
Actually confidence is what really makes a woman attractive. Test it. If a woman is truly confident, it’ll show. It’s what makes other women like her and men want her. It’s my philosophy, thought it’s not mine alone.

I need to travel. I don’t get to do it often, but I love it.

I love to drive. Driving is the ultimate power trip. Driving is a great way to clear the mind, explore the conscience.

Once I drove out of town for heck of it. I drove to a street named Schoolhouse Road. I wished I had a camera.

I passed a road named Gay St. last Tuesday when I was on my way to KC. I wished I had a camera.

Sometimes I have dizzy spells. They don’t really alarm me; they keep me grounded really.

I started calling a friend to wake her up for Fajr everyday. It’s quite nice to get hasanat so easily.

When I was younger (a ninth grader I think), I went to a party at a Muslim girl’s house. My dad let me go to this sleepover because he trusted the family. We went to her aunt’s house. We watched an R-rated movie (with lots of things I’ve never seen before). With vodka in the fridge, a few girls had screwdrivers a blessed few never knew. I was the girl they never would have told. How did Ms. Goody-two-shoes know? Why can I never forget? I think the one’s who did drink it were all younger than me. Why would she have vodka? It hurts to think of it.
I erase things from my memory. Sometimes they come back to me and I know that it was something that shaped me but hurt at the same time. Amazing how a mind can pick and choose memories.

I loved my mother. For a long time after she died, I hated my father. I wished he had died for a long time. Now I can’t imagine life without him. I loved my mother. I love my father.

I’ve only dreamt of my mother twice (that I can remember). I still think of her often. I can still vividly remember some of the dreams.

When my step-mom moved in, I was the biggest bitch ever. “This cabinet is mine,” I told her that first week (maybe even first day). “When I get married I’m taking it with me. So you can put stuff in it if you want, but it’s mine.” That’s just a taste. It was worse than that even. One day though, it all changed. I don’t know how; I don’t know when. Allah’s mercy was great though. His forgiveness greater, insha’Allah.

When my step-mom was pregnant the second time, I was angry. I love my sister now. I can’t imagine life without her. Just goes to show Who knows best.

I am a sucker for my dad. I love him so much. I don’t want to make him mad, so I usually won’t do anything to tick him off anymore. We used to argue all the time (for the sake of arguing---it was quite fun) but things are just too complicated now. I’m just his good daughter now. No time for normalcy. I do love my dad.

I love to argue for the sake of arguing. I usually take the opposite side of any argument (even if I personally don’t agree) just to have some fun. Don’t get me started on the Palestine/Iraq problems Arabs always like to discuss when together. I don’t believe in the “Blame it all on America/UK/Israel” philosophy so many subscribe to. Total BS. Ahh…maybe I should have been a lawyer.

I quit my job. I did it for lots of reasons. Now I need something to do. I think I’ve found it. I’ll wait to divulge.

I look best in a pink hijab.

A lot of my clothes are black and white. Basics I guess. Weird since I love color.

I’ve grown to hate wearing abaya. I’m not sure why since I do have a beautiful abaya. It comes in cycles anyway; hate it this year, love it the next.

If you can make $60,000/year at a computer, why doesn’t everyone become an engineer?

I never thought about money or how much I make until my brother became an engineer. Now I feel like crap. At least I love teaching, right? J

I painted my room a couple months ago. The tape is still on the ceiling of half the room. Maybe I’ll take it down.

I missed the fireworks this year. I was pretty mad. But that’s okay. That’s life.

I don’t like to make a big deal out of things that only really affect me. And if there is nothing we can do about something, why get so mad?

When I was little, there was an anti-drug commercial that was so touching I still remember it. A girl was plucking her eyebrows until they were all gone. She was on heroine.

When I’m really bored, I like to pluck out my leg hairs (when they start growing back) in one spot. I know, psycho!

Sometimes I’m a perfectionist. Sometimes I leave tape on my wall.

I have to make my bed everyday before I leave my room.

I hate breakfast. It’s easier to skip it than figure out what to make for the family. I’d rather just eat a banana.

I love bananas. I love them when they’re still a bit green and hard. I hate soft bananas with dark spots. YUCK! Green bananas=happiness.

I always buy yellow flowers. I never notice it until my mom points it out.

I’m 24 years old and I don’t know what I’m doing here.

My mom died at 39. I used to count down the years. (15)

I am seriously afraid of growing up.

I dream of having my own personal library. Buying books is like an investment. I want to live in a house with a room dedicated to books alone. Books are my true love.

I want to write a book. Udhiya Confessions: The Life and Times of an American Muslim You should hear some of the Udhiya stories (sheep running away, sheep eaten by dogs, sheep running away…it’s actually funnier than that J).

There’s a goat in my backyard. I call her Minnie Maaz. Clever, I know. (Maaz=goat in Arabic…Minnie Mouse=great Disney cartoon character who wears a polka dotted dress and large bow in her ears)

The trunk of my car is empty…all of my junk is in my dad’s car. Mwa-ha-ha! (evil laugh)

I’ve been in charge of a youth girls lock-in for four years now. It’s become an amazing success because of all the people who have helped. And mostly it’s a success because of Allah. Alhamdulillah!

I’m secretly a little afraid to go to Hajj. I’m secretly jealous of everyone who’s already gone.

I want to see Libya. Soon. Insha’Allah.

I don’t like people who talk a lot of crap. I don’t like people who say things they don’t mean to flatter you; things that are totally wrong to say. “If we only knew that you had such a wonderful daughter, I would have married my son to her.” Her son is engaged to her brother’s daughter---his cousin for goodness sake! She doesn’t even know me. Arabs!

I’ve learned to speak Arabic. It may be a little broken, but it’s all good, alhamdulillah. I can still read and write well enough I suppose. At least I can read Quran and sometimes totally understand it.

I remember a lot from Arabic classes I took in elementary/middle school and college. It’s amazing how much I remember.

Once, my Arabic teacher taught us a magic trick. He showed us the trick in the middle of the year when we were bored but said he wouldn’t show us how until we had finished the book. He really didn’t tell us until the end of the year. I still show the trick to some of the kids sometimes. It’s pretty awesome!

I love watching movies with Julia Roberts in it.

I hope to go to Florida this summer. Well, if Maysa ever gets back here.

My friends have abandoned me this summer.

I used to be the youngest person in our group. “I don’t mind being the last,” I would think, I would say. I do mind now.

Everything we used to laugh about has come upon us. Everything we used to think would never happen to us has crashed right into our laps. Don’t ever think it can’t be you or yours.

In the last few years, three young people I knew died: Riad at 21 (I was 20), Wisam at 19 (I was only 21), Jonathan at 26 (I’m 24). May Allah have mercy upon them, upon us.

What can I possibly write after that? My mind is fragmented; crazy things always pop up. But what can I possibly write without being insensitive? What does it matter?

Lists, like poetry, are easy to write. Only the author is in charge.

I prefer writing in my journal to typing on a computer.

I am amazed that I’ve kept a blog for more than a year. (how long has it been?)

I love reading old journal entries. It’s like I’ve actually accomplished something. Sometimes I giggle at how dumb I used to be.

I think people with blogs are a little self absorbed. We are. Everything we write is so amazing that people should read it. Events in our lives are that important we should share it with the world. The problem is that nobody reads it. The problem is we know we are a little self-absorbed and don’t care. The problem is it’s still therapeutic. The great thing is we don’t really care.

Once Upon a Marigold is a great young adult novel. I need to find it. I loved reading it.

I love YA novels. Usually short and simple enough to read in one day.

Harry Potter’s 7th book is coming out soon! YAH! Can’t wait. Oooh…maybe I should be rereading the sixth one now.

I still haven’t finished cleaning out my classroom.

I hate to leave my students. They’re going to be so sad that I left. I’m still sad I’ve left. I think I need to tell my coworkers before everyone hears it from other sources.

I always wanted to jog in the rain until the day it poured down on my. At first the sprinkle was nice; then it started to rain harder. I also walked farther than usual that day. It wasn’t fun.

I want to ride a bike in the park. The machines haven’t started working yet. They are there just to tease me. Frustrating.

I love sushi. I always think of sushi. I have begun a long, intimate relationship with sushi.

I also love cheezits. Last year the girls wrote a poem about how much I love them. I married them and then ate him. Very praying mantis-like, eh?

Nadrine and I have rules about marriage. We’ve seen too many problems that could easily have been fixed or avoided. We’ll have to remind each other of our rules, but they are good ones. Now that she’s married and far from me, we’ll need to review the next time I call her. I sure miss her.

When I travel by plane, I always write some of my duas down on a paper or in my journal. I love writing in my journal from thousands of feet in the sky. Last time I wrote my duas in Arabic. It was fun. It’s more fun to read them now.

Last night I went out on a limb and decided to go out alone. I don't usually go places I don't know (or possibly own in a psychological way) all alone. As a matter of fact, I'm sitting outside of a coffee house (inside of my car) because I don't really wanna go in as a loner. Funny thing is that I don't really care what others think. But I don't really want the pity. Which means that I kinda do care. I think I'll stop this convo now.

Anyway, so I went to Utica Square for one of those free concerts they have every Thursday. It's actually really nice since it's for families and neighbors. It was a steel band (actually the same steel band I heard two years ago and didn't like). Although I didn't think I'd actually like it, I did! I sat alone and wrote in my journal. I love to do that in a crowd with music in the background. At first it's a bit scary-like. A bit weird to be around so many people and not talk to a single one...to write in a journal instead; to converse with paper. It was awesome. At first I was reluctant and then I just couldn't stop. It was in fact invigorating really. :) SubhanAllah.


Just as I was really into what I was writing, the inevitable happened: someone interrupted me. It was someone I knew. She introduced me to some of her friends. It sure is nice to be recognized in a crowd (I'm sure my scarf was no giveaway)....

The last time I went to concerts was two years ago. It was for a class. I never knew that music could be so much fun. I never knew that there were so many places to listen to a free concert; so many places to get lost in a song. I always write in a journal when I listen. I can't help it. The music tells some story; the words tell a story; the musician tells his own story. It is so broad yet so narrow. I can't quite capture its essence.

Once I was interrupted by a guy as I was briskly writing away. He had the decency to wait until the song was over. I sat on the edge of my seat (which was a grassy ledge) at the riverside ampitheater. It was a beautiful evening; just cool enough to make it pleasant, just late enough to make it dreamy. I still remember the feeling I had. I can still feel the music. It was so powerful. I still have my notes, my thoughts. It was an amazing piece of classical music. Something about an Indian (Native American) girl (maybe a princess of sorts). It was so magical. And when it was over I was interrupted.

He was handsome and young. He was with a couple of other people. He wanted to know if I was a musician. He hit on me. I smiled politely, spoke nice enough. I walked away; surely wishing to talk more, but walking away nonetheless.

I'm stronger than I thought. Sometimes I'm wrong though. Hmm...

Life...Just now...

I just ran into old students.
With a fake grill in his mouth,
Sadly covering his rotting teeth,
A hat with crystals over the lame emblem,
And a necklace praising the all-powerful mary jane,
He was glad to see me.
“I make 50k making airplane parts.”
Money even I don’t dream to make for nothing
“I’ve got a baby on the way in January.”
A place I can’t imagine someone so young would endeavor
“I’m not in school, I make too much money.”
Yes, money, what would we do without it?
“Yeah, I run into other kids from that year,
Shot, dead, life in prison. Some are okay I guess.”
Right, so I’ve heard. Dead. Life in prison. Or still in school.
“Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of my family.”
With a limited future, I’m sure you will.
“You remember Aaron, right?”
Oh, yeah the bright kid from fifth hour.
“He’s gotta baby girl. Five months.”
Congratulations. A baby. A life. Responsibility.
“Well, it’s good to see you.”
Take care of the family. Take care of yourself.
“I will.”
I’m sure you will.
No one was there to take care of you,
I’m sure you’ll take care of you and yours.

Some of us have a lot
And throw it all away.
Some of us have a little
And throw it away.
Some of us have nothing
And still strive for something better.

I’m glad I ran into him.
But a baby? A BABY?

And so where will we be?
Where will he be?
What’s ahead?

Dream 1

DREAM 1

The rain falls oh so heavily in the night time. Especially when one is trying to sleep. The dreams it conjures up are amazing. They mean almost nothing except that it was raining in the night and my imagination attempts to play on every fear, every hope. Dreams may mean nothing; yet they may mean something disturbingly true and fearsome.

***
From my window I see the clouds: dark, ominous clouds already drenching the world below. From this vantage point, I note the already moist ground, the puddles already dark with mud and sand, the window’s seemingly endless tears. It is almost beautiful at first. A thunderstorm to refresh the earth. All at once the storm becomes something greater altogether. The sirens sound and the world is put on high alert. Above the clouds begin to rotate into a massive ball of energy. What was first a soothing summer shower is now a fearsome ball of energy not to be reckoned with. This change only takes a few seconds, but it is amazingly frightening and disturbing; and surprisingly awe-inspiring. For a moment, the ball of energy (for it has indeed become like a large celestial object looking for something to orbit) sits frozen in the sky above. It is a milky color; blues and whites seeming to fade into each other. It is as round as the moon and closer than an airplane would be to the ground. It is constantly moving within itself even though it is not moving away or towards anything. With the object frozen above us for some time, I sense that everyone is watching the development. Everyone is afraid. Everyone is guessing what will happen next; nothing like this has ever happened to us before.

With amazing force and a flash of light, and a loud crack that vibrates the soul and mind, the storm begins to fall. Everyone heads for safety, secretly praying that the disaster will not hit their house, their families, their assets; I know this though I am alone in my room at my single window to the world. And then there is the blast; a deafening noise lasting only a minute, the violent winds that shake everything, the blinding light that spreads and then leaves us without any light at all. It is more terrifying than the waiting. It is the truth spoken aloud; things will never be the same, things are definitely wrong.

Looking out of the front window of the house, I can see some of the damage. “Thank God it wasn’t my house that was hit,” I say aloud. “Thank God.”

The area only a couple blocks away is not the same. It seems the blast has flipped the town around. Signs of stores from miles away are somehow scattered carelessly around the area. Signs litter the entire stretch of land within my sight. Signs that used to mean comfort, food, normalcy, are all strewn in an open field. It is scary to sit alone and ponder what doesn’t make sense. I venture out into the world.

I pass people. I remember walking with some man for a bit, but the words he was saying made no sense whatsoever. I tried to console, but we couldn’t communicate. I looked ahead at the topsy-turvy sight ahead of me and I know. I know it is the end of the world. Some said it would come by fire, some by rain, and some by disease. It came as something we couldn’t have imagined. It came as a storm to end all storms. A storm left vivid in my mind.

There in the desolate darkness that is now or existence, I can only think one thought. Only one thing crosses my mind. I fear the future and what will happen. I swear the world was ending and I thought to myself,

“Well, it’s the end of the world and I’m still not married! No use now…”

***

Last night...reflections...

I’m just wondering
Could you possibly
Just walk with me
Around this town
Walk to the nearest
Area of interest?
Could you just stand
Beside me?
You would not
Have to say a single
Solitary word
You would just
Need to stand
Beside me for
A while so
I won’t feel
So alone
Here
Right now
So could you?
Could you possible
Just be with me
For an hour
A minute
Any length of Time really
And just
Stand
By
Me?

***

There is a lump in my throat
I can’t explain it.

I almost yelled in prayer today
I almost cried at the radio
I almost called again
I almost didn’t write this
I almost walked away
I almost try to pretend it all never happened
I almost exist merely in words
I almost cease to truly be me
I almost didn’t write this


***
If I walked past,
Would you call me back?

***

Wicked dreams...

The world ending...a car falling into my backyard from the sky...

I wonder if there really is something wrong with me? :)

(I know what Freud would say...but I'll have to write out my dreams another time...psycho-analysis will have to presume when I have enough time to write them all out, insha'Allah.)

The sounds escaping my mouth...
they're not mine.

The tears sprung from my eyes...
they're not mine.

It couldn't have been me.
It wasn't my conscious decision.

I sobbed
like I've never sobbed before,
like I hope to never sob again, insha'Allah.

It scared him a bit, I think.
I know it scared her a lot.
I said it all without any show of my real emotion.
I said what was my duty without emotion.
But when he joked about his death,
I sobbed.
He was laughing,
laughing when all he wanted was to cry
(I take after him in that respect),
and I covered my eyes
and let it all come down.
Then I couldn't stop.
He kissed my forehead.
I grabbed on to his waist,
his leg,
and begged him not to die on me.
Not that it's in his hands,
but he can't give up on me.
May Allah keep him here with me
as long as I need him.

And so we appear strong,
trouble only comes to test.

We appear without emotion,
trouble only comes before blessings.

Yet we cried together.
That was the best thing
out of all of this.

Now my chest is free...
for the most part...
free of the burden of solitairy knowledge...



***

Now we need some good news.
Can we just get some good news?
Please.

"Verily with hardship comes ease..."

Keepin' the prize in sight. Right?

June 16, 2007
3:16 a.m.

and everyone sleeps,
fine with the choices they made.

It's three in the morning
and I can't sleep,
can't easily live,
with the choice THEY made.

***

the kNowledge of

an Unbelievably heavy

thought Making my days

horribly unBearable.

***

the pressure in my head is strangely comforting...i am still alive...

***

I'm in love.

Really in love.

I love...SUSHI!!!

Yeah, I can't even stay serious a whole two minutes.

I don't really believe in crying in front of others. Most people who know me know that about me. It's a little too intimate, too personal. Lately I just wanna cry a lot. I don't know if it is the world bogging me down or just that time of month. :) (I can never be serious long enough for my own good.)

***

I called her last night. My best friend. My very best friend. She's happy. She's more than happy. She's engaged and spending all her time with him. I'm not jealous of her. I'm not even jealous of him. I just miss her. I want her here. I want to tell her everything about everything; I want to tell someone everything I didn't tell anyone. How can I ruin her happiness? How can I even remind her of my existence?

I called my best friend last night and I cried. I cried on the telephone to a friend a million miles away in the Holy Land. Yet, as I cried, I lied. The tears streaked the face, the heart wept loudly, yet the smile was sent over the miles. The hopes the prayers were sent. The tears stayed in Tulsa to be indulged only by me.

It's better that way.

***

"From Kamlah I take...ummm.... our eternal love," she joked.

"That's just gay dude," was my dumb teenage-inspired reply. "You get cool things from everyone else, but from me you take love? Why can't I give you common sense or strength? Why can't I give you something to actually USE in Egypt?"

"You can take Kamlah's ability to hide her feelings," Laura said. "She never let's anyone know when something is the matter or something is bothering her. I'm sure you can use that around your in-laws!"

Who knew she knew me that well?

***

AMPUTEE

A chunk of me is gone.
(Loss of innocence happens in many ways.)
My words and feelings were mine.
Now they are in space.
Without my secret how can I exist?
Without my last hidden hope, how can I breath?
Without my WORDS, my selfish, secret words, who will I be?

There's a tingling sensation,
A burning sting where it used to be;
I feel it still.

A chunk of me is gone.

What will grow in its place?

secret

yesterday, I saw the most beautiful tree…I
ever saw in my life. It was yellow…. Almost
as yellow as the sun. It could be…Called
the sunlit tree; it was that yellow…You
might think I am crazy staring at trees…And
you might be right. But standing there I ….Asked
myself why it amazed me; it was the flowers…You
almost don’t see them from the ground…To
really see them you must…Go
back a few steps and look at them…Out
of the corner of your eyes…With
such beauty all around…Me

I couldn’t help…But
feel. I am not sure if…I
can describe it; I…Didn’t
try to contain it in words yesterday…I
just admired it; sometimes I…Wish
to always observe nature always…Sometimes
I wish to be around it always…I
love to feel the breeze; it …Would
be nice to always go there…But
it reminds me of you and…I
don’t need to be reminded…Didn’t
need to be reminded…

All roads lead to the river; lead to the ocean.

Which is where I'd rather be, in the rain, on the run, at the river; knee-deep in the ocean.

Driving in the rain; driving to the river.

All roads lead to the river; lead to reflection at the river's edge.

Let's see..

I go to Chicago Friday morning, insha'Allah. I'm excited. Just not enough. I'm sure I'll feel better when it all finally sinks in.

***

Goodness...my eye did this funky thing this morning. I thought I had pink eye so I made an appointment, got a sub for my classes, left school midday. When I got to the office, my eye looked fine. It wasn't even the least bit red. Why is life like that?

Oh well, I got some eye drops out of the experience. I know that I won't be the bridesmaid with a freak eye now. Insha'Allah. :)

***

My Arabic is all messed up. But I'm still proud of myself sometimes. I'm just not going to think about the mistakes. Words mean more to me than I can type or write. However, their power is only evident to the writer sometimes.

***

Nadrine's party was freaking awesome! Masha'Allah she looked beautiful and the room was nicely decorated (thanks to late night meetings at the hotel). There were lots of uninvited guests and idiot Arabs who came, seemingly, to ruin a great party. Too bad; we had fun anyway! I danced nearly the whole night. It was amazing! I love girl parties! :)

***

My mom flew out this morning to see her mother in the hospital. She's really sick and needs surgery. Things don't look that great. I pray that she will get better, insha'Allah.

Zahida's father-in-law died today. I feel bad for my friend. May Allah make it easy for her family.

Speaking of which, I'm not sure that I know how to grieve anymore. Sympathy I have. Empathy, sometimes. But grief hits us hard sometimes. Too hard. Grieving over death is just a stepping stone in my life. I just hope I'm not insensitive.

***

Sometimes I make no sense whatsoever.

Then again,

Nonsensical to you; poetry to me.

My problem

حبيتك ٲكثر

حزنت ٲكثر

أحبك اليوم و بكرا

أنت سبب

هذا الحق

من غير كذب

من غير حل

Life is so taxing on one's soul.

...so is pretending to live.

I think I would prefer to be straight forward. I almost pick up the phone, type the words, speak them aloud. I'd rather know than hope. Hope is only worth its trouble when you have the faith to know something better is coming. Hope is only hopeful when you have patience.

But then again, maybe ignorance is bliss. Maybe not.

***

I get to go to yet another friend's wedding! I'm so excited. I have a bridesmaid dress for Sabrin's wedding in Chicago (custom made and paid for by the groom's family---first time EVER!). Now I just need to find the dress for Nadrine's party...in a week and a half! I'm starting to go crazy!!! I've been looking for weeks now. Will I find the perfect dress in time? Insha'Allah. Will I ever find what I'm looking for?

WILL I EVER find what I'm looking for? Will I be found?

***

What a dork I am! :)

Come knocking at my door
Surely I’ll answer
If only you’d knock at my door
I’m dying to answer

Don’t wait
Come on in
The door is gone
am I?

Pieces of dreams

I keep having the weirdest dreams.

Sometimes my brother is in my dream. I can't stop dreaming about him. I've had dreams about him for a while. Only now do they make sense. Only now are they my actual fears.

Sometimes my dreams are about other people who have hurt me. I remember why I loved/liked them at one point. But the feeling of hurt returns after a moment. Maybe it's a sign to stay clear of them.

Sometimes my dreams are just the things I fear. Sometimes it's what I wish wouldn't happen, but will happen anyway. I'm not totally without hope. I live on. But I know my dreams have changed, reality hit hard.

***

I sat with him in the car. He was married. I was momentarily happy. I quickly filled with emptiness. I remember I nearly hate him. I remember why. I am momentarily happy.

***

There was alcohol in the backseat. Dark glass beer bottles. He shrugs. No big deal. Not really for him. For the other guy. What can you do?

Something else in the bag bothers me. I don't remember what it is. I remember it was in a large clear bottle. Maybe plastic. It made me furious. What can I do?

***

I ran away. I didn't tell anyone. I took a flight out of town. I would have enjoyed it if my conscience had not made me feel bad. It was so realistic. Doing something drastic; regretting it mildly.

***

***

***

I have resolved myselft to a life of sadness, though filled with moments of happiness. I know.

Last night I had the most brilliant post in my head....
I didn't write it down...
I've forgotten...

Actually...

I can't let that be the last thing I let myself write. I am not like that. As a matter of fact, I almost want to delete it all. I can't. I also won't let myself be that. I won't be the person to delete it as if it never happened. It did. It was. Now we are what we are. Each individual grows. But "With every hardship is ease," as Allah promises. "Verily with every hardship is ease." Oh Allah I pray to you to show me what is good in this trial and make the ease come soon for my family.

******

Chicago was fun, alhamdulillah. I was too busy to enjoy the actual city, but to see my friends again made it worth it, insha'Allah.

The highlight: flying. SubhanAllah, it was so easy. This was the first time I've flown alone and only the second time I've flown in my life. It was so easy, I'm already planning to take another trip (okay, so I don't know when or where, I just know I've gotta get out of this town that makes me so strong therefore so weak). To see the sky, the sunrise, the clouds; how could anyone deny an existence greater than ourselves? SubhanAllah. It's so cliche, but I enjoyed watching the world grow smaller and my dependence on Allah grow greater.

I made dua while in the plane, for the dua of the traveler is accepted insha'Allah. I prayed for everything I could think of. I wrote it all down. It only seems real when I write it down. May Allah accept my prayers and bless my family. Oh Allah guide us.

just think of the clouds....just think of the clouds....just think of the clouds....

It's not easy to lie.
"Everything's okay"

It's not easy to pretend.
"Surely things will change for the better and this will all be a bad 5-minutes to a good 24 hours."

It's not easy to be left behind.

I left for two days, but he left us while I was gone.

Oh and it stings like I can't explain. I do believe it will work out in the end. I say it to all around me. But my eyes burn with hate and despise. And now I cry for what was lost. I hate him. I love him too strongly to let him do this to us.

It hurts right here, right here where i pretend to be okay. Right here is where the pain resignates and expands into a gaping hole i fear all can see. This is where my heart used to be. This is where my confidence used to lie. Now, all that's left is the shell.

all that is left is weak

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Dreams remembered...

I was on my way to Chicago. I actually thought I was in Chicago, but I wasn't. Then I thought I was in Arizona, but I wasn't. I was in Richardson, or so the dream goes (or so goes my memory actually). The point is not where, it's what.

I saw the ocean. It was beautiful. I visited the beach at night. The waves were nearly violent. But it was a scene of beautiful violence. There was light from the horizon, a very faint light, though it was definitely after dusk. I remember thinking that I couldn't believe the view.

I was on one side of the beach walking on what was nearly smooth sand. As I walked to the other side of the beach, facing the horizon, my feet begin to tingle with a burning sensation. The burn is not like fire, though uncomfortable. I can't see why I can't stand this area of the beach, but I tolerate the pain for a few more minutes before returning to the other side. Before moving though, I catch a glimpse of something in the sky. It's a beautiful night sky; the kind always romanticized in film. There before me is an object falling from the sky. It appears to be attached to some sort of parachute that it detaches from near the surface of the water. At first I am just in awe, then I notice what they are: jellyfish. I watch three of them float from the sky and land safely in the water as I make my way around the beach. I wonder if it is the jellyfish that made my feet burn, though I know it wasn't. I seem to know then that it was the glass from millions of bottles thrown down in a drunken rage by someone before my time. But it doesn't matter.

I find my way to the safe side of the beach. All I can think of is how near the beach those floating parachutists came. All I can feel is the breeze around me. All I want is to stay there. And then I do what I always do, I run. I run away from what I want. I run into the city.

Funny...

I had a dream about a sister I haven't seen in a long time. We were at the Masjid and it was nice. She was in hijab and I was in the line for prayer when I noticed her. I think I should call her, insha'Allah.

Good news travels fast...

BAD news seems to take half the time....

So I'm falling from grace, maybe I've fallen. Not sure. But I'm definitely not satisfied with this. Now what am I to do? It's only March 1!

The wind has been knocked out of me and I sit staring blanking at this monitor as my fingers do the talking. I'm really upset.

I'm so unhappy. Just on different levels. My students make me complete. But the team is not functioning well. I feel we live a lie every day.

I think I'm gonna have to stop talking in circles. That's what I hate about others. Not what I wish to do.

Days have passed, thoughts have flooded the page.

There's something to be said of feeling ill. Though it's not sickness that ails me. I'm so depressed. I feel like crying. But why? I'm not an emotional person. I'm rational. I tell myself that all the time. I'm not even allowing myself to wallow in how sad I really am. Because words are magic. I told them that today. And they are. Words are magic. They have the power to make you happy or sad. They have the power to raise you or lower you. That's why we choose our words carefully....but it's my world in my head. Yet, even here I choose my words carefully. As if uttering the words so darkly veiled in the crevices of that space inside this vessel would cause the avalanche I so fear.
Ignorance is bliss. Yet, I knew it was coming. I voiced concern. It got us nowhere. Except the ignorance only resulted in delayed anguish...can we save the one's we love from heartache? can we deny what we see developing before our eyes just to save one more day's happiness in our minds? We can. But it comes with a price. We are paying it. (There, i've said it aloud...now what? do i get swallowed under? do i die? if it were only that easy...no catastrophe shall hit, only that which we cause by our own hands, our own deeds).

We are selfish. We cry not for the dead, we cry for ourselves, for our loneliness, for our plot in life, not theirs. We are selfish.

When he spoke of the Kaaba, Madina, I cried. Me. The rational being I pretend to be. I cried. I hate crying in front of people. I hid my tears. Not that it was hard. I think we all secretly cried. We are selfish. I want it for myself so bad...I'm old enough to want it SO bad.

The package of gifts was quickly devoured in their hands. My portion came out. I used my senses to own it before I possessed it. I wore the scarves. I prayed on the rug. But most importantly, I wished for the scent of the sand, the city. I wished to be transported through an object into the world I wanted. I felt Libyan to possess of the country. But I'll never BE Libyan, until the smell is of me, the sea flows with me, the sounds seduce me, the sand envelopes me. I'll never BE until I've been. Every inch of me desires that land, that family, those values. I feel pulled towards it. As the ocean rises to be closer to the moon, so my body begs to be delivered there.

So I'm the last one standing. Funny. I always said I wouldn't mind being the last. That if it had to be this way, I was the strongest. I am, I think. But...darn...I should have been careful of what I wished for.

A Night at the Museum...

Okay, so it was actually the daytime. But I thought since the movie was #1 for so long (although i'm not sure why), I thought maybe my blog would become the #1 blog for a while (although I'm not sure why I thought that).

:)

Anyway, I totally got to go to the museum! WOOHOO! I've been wanting to go for so long now, that I almost gave up on actually going. But when I saw the sign at school that said "FREE ADMISSION" to Philbrook with my ID, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. And on top of that, alhamdulillah, I finally convinced my brother to go with me.

So yeah it was interesting. I took some awesome pics (Adam was being uncreative most of the time...but with my creative genius and his skill with his amazing camera, we're a pretty good team).

My favorite piece of art wasn't there on Sunday, but it doesn't matter. I got to see a man picking his nose while painted a million colors:


I even was allowed to enjoy the delicious peaches painted just for me (YUM):

Then I saved a fish from drowning in the pond on the grounds! ("My hero!" the fish sputtered as he ran on his merry way.)

I learned something important (dead people's words can live on when imprinted on seats...) and even the importance of everyday things (like this ceramic suitcase...I guess art is in the eye of the artist? :)

There was even an interesting tree I couldn't help but touch!

Add to all that the beautiful grounds that made me feel like a character out of a Jane Austen novel (how superb!) and you've got magic enough to make anyone happy!

Ya Halawa!

...little kids dancing.........haram!
...little kids kicking feet in air that is similar to really bad 'break dancing'....haram!
...imitating the kafir...so haram! (I mean what were we thinking?)
...saying this in front of everyone including the kids who then went home crying...ya haram!

...my days here are numbered...

seems purely hypocritical to me

Allah knows best, but this was simply ridiculous. No wonder our kids think Islam is so hard and then do things so bad (but not while imitating the kafir...haram!)

I'm so gone next year...so gone...

Allah knows best kamlah...Allah knows best...but I don't believe it and therefore cannot live in it. Maybe I'll leave and then miss it so much that I'll come back. Or maybe I won't and I'll get paid more, be appreciated more, and learn more than my neverending lessons in reinventing the wheel that I feel are never EVER ending.

Dude I love and hate this place.

Love it mostly.

Hate it when I think about what happened.

I'm burnt out and need to get away.

Umm....reminder to self: Allah knows best.