Reflections

(g)OLD

2012-01-24T11:06:00.003-06:00

I slept for nearly ten hours last night! I didn't realize I was THAT tired. I've been on this new exercise swing. I have worked out for nearly an hour EVERYDAY for the last fifteen days. I guess my body decided that it was enough! :) When I went to sleep last night, I meant to wake up at 5:30 to hit the gym, but I just couldn't do it. I feel old...and a little like gold! :)

Sunday night, yo.

2012-01-22T22:05:00.003-06:00

I had an idea for my blog the other day.

I have since forgotten it. Oh well.

***

Okay, so as most of you know (you being the four folks who read my blog---even if two of you are accidental visitors), I'm still searching for the special someone to make my life complete (yadda, yadda, blah, blah...you know how I feel about this kinda stuff). I reopened two of my online profiles again (cause meeting a guy in a skirt for coffee is enough to make you go back again and again). Nothing has happened, but I am not opposed to trying. I will try my best to post about these adventures more regularly. Especially if a skirt is involved! :)

On another note (well, same note, different song), I am not quite sure I am ready. Scratch that. I am not sure I am serious enough. I am really looking, but maybe I'm not REALLy looking. Right, that makes no sense. To you. To me, it's perfectly logical. You see, I am somewhat absorbed with the thoughts of one guy. But said guy isn't really for me. But I can't stop thinking about said guy. Yeah, dumb. Stupid girl feelings.

Moving on, let me mention that I also had the opportunity to meet one of my first crushes after a few years. We had coffee. It was fun. It also brought back a lot of memories I had repressed (for good reason, apparently). I could totally fall for him again. But I won't. Mostly because I like where I am and not exactly where he is at the moment. And secondly, because I'm not fourteen anymore.

Insert witty transition here, I've been exercising like crazy lately. Every single day. I hear you are supposed to give your body a day to rest. Psshhh. Rest is for the weak. Or something like that. I've got a biggest loser contest to win! Hecks yeah! $400 in my pocket?! Yeah, I can do almost anything for two months for $400. Well, almost anything.

Speaking of doing something, I fed the homeless on Christmas day. It's a great story that involves downtown Houston, leftover steak dinners at the Hilton, and sneaking around rules (I love breaking dumb rules!). I'll write about it next. Tomorrow. I promise.

Peace out, yo!

Two confessions

2011-12-28T23:50:00.000-06:00

1. I just drank from the carton of milk. It was both delicious and liberating.

2. I am about to sleep in the clothes I've worn all day...which just happen to be the same clothes I slept in last night.

Being on vacation is amazing. :)

2011-12-18T23:01:00.003-06:00

I'm going to drive right outta here and right into the arms of a stranger. It is truly my plans. I must not be like the other girls with their hopes and dreams and lovers. I must not be like the girls who can commit to a man and just go for the heartbreaking loss of loneliness. I must not be like those girls who make it out of here with a solitaire. I am the one who leaves on an epic journey to loving matrimony with my own problem lover. That's right, he's going with me. I am my own problem. Sigh.

2011-12-18T22:49:00.000-06:00

It's just that I always want something I cannot have.

It's just that I don't want what I can have.

2011-11-20T20:06:00.002-06:00

I am constantly chasing that which I cannot have.

It's funny because I have always thought of myself as a fairly rational person. Rational, it seems, in all ways except love. And I find myself rebelling in as many ways as I will let myself. They are fairly small ways, but they are my own way of being rebellious. I know I am unhappy. So unhappy. I have found a deep dark place inside of myself and I don't necessarily like it. I think I may like it well enough though for it seems that I could get myself out of it if I wanted. But maybe I don't.

I don't want to marry a FOB. It worked for you? Cool. Great. Congrats. But I don't think I can do it.

I want to fall in love.

I want to date. Maybe not in a horribly modern sense, but in a romantic "his hand brushed mine" and a "he held the door open for me as we went into the restaurant" type of way.

I want to feel pretty and I want to be pursued.

I feel so desperate and yet I am not willing to settle at all. It is totally ironic, I know.

My friend is gone. I miss her. Though I know I can't talk about this with her anymore. I can't talk to anyone about it anymore. And so I turn to you again, blog. I turn to you so that I can vent to someone, cause God knows I can't use Facebook or my friends or family. I can't show my biggest weakness there and and I cannot talk about this anymore for it is the only thing that I seem to want to talk about. I am becoming a recluse. A social recluse. A paradox, I know. But I am always alone in a group of people. And always talking to those I love, but never love in the way I wish.

I know I am loved. I know that I am lucky. But I am so lonely I can feel it weighing down on my face.

I am bitter these days...but not in a horrible way. Just this way:

A divorced woman remarries, and I wonder what's wrong with me.
A widowed woman has suitors she denies and then decides to marry, and I wonder what the hell is wrong with me.
Divorced for two days? No biggie, there's a man for her too. And me? I'm still single.
What? Cheated on your husband? That's okay, here's another for you. Yep, you guessed it: I'm all alone watching.
Eighteen and getting married? So happy for you. So sad for me.

I do not begrudge my sisters their love. I truly rejoice in their happiness. I just revel in my own sadness. I am wallowing in self-pity and hate it.

This is not me. I know it is not me. I know that there is something so wrong with me. Maybe it is all this country music I am listening to :). <----that. That is me. That joke and that smile, that is me. And that is what I do so that a serious issue does not define me. That is what I do so that the moment doesn't kill me. And that is what I do all the freaking time. I am tired of it. I need friends my own age. I need to find love. Immediate, happy, true love.

I know what I think I want.

But whatever, it's all good. I will go on. I will be presumably happy. I will smile and I will stay busy. I will rejoice in one more day. Maybe a day closer to happiness.

Alhamdulillah. Always alhamdulillah.

2011-07-12T22:16:00.002-05:00

It's not a normal attraction.

Or maybe it is.

It's not solely
about physical attraction.

I just want to be
protected by him.

Don't tell me what to do...

2011-06-07T21:41:00.002-05:00

Don't tell me what to do.
Who do you think you are?
You are not my father.
You are not my friend.
You are not even my lover.
You are a potential (and no longer that).

I cannot stand it when a guy says he wants his wife to stay at home. I mean, it's all fine and dandy....for someone else. I have a job (one a bit better than yours) and it's a good job (working with kids and all). How can you want a partnership, a relationship, if all you want to do is tell ME what to do?

I know, I'm being lame. I probably won't even want to work. But I am too independent to let someone tell me I can't.

Or maybe I need to fall in love first. Maybe I have to really (and I mean REALLY) like the guy to let him tell me what he wants in life without taking offense. Maybe that's the key. Maybe it's too soon to let him be honest. Maybe honesty should come later?

What am I talking about? I abhor games! I don't like to mess around with feelings if the basics aren't even taken care of.

Then again, I don't want to follow the rules anymore.

Screw the rules. Let's see how far this takes me.

Just this far. I can't really break all the rules. Though I wouldn't mind breaking a few. Okay, so maybe I already break a few here and there. Okay, so maybe I have done some things that were breaking the rules only to unbreak the rules and then feel all crappy. Okay, breaking the rules isn't win-win.

But then again, neither is this.

Man, I have missed you blog. :)

Not quite a kilt.

2011-01-12T20:42:00.002-06:00

I need to clarify a few things:

I did go out to meet a guy.

I did meet him on an online dating site.

The guy wore a skirt to this "date" for coffee.

There is a fantastic story here.

It makes everyone laugh.

I just don't feel like sharing now.

Wait for it. It's a great story.

MATCH

2011-01-12T20:41:00.000-06:00

I don’t know. I guess I thought it would make me feel better about myself in the end. Maybe I just thought about the story. Or I assumed it wouldn’t hurt.

It did.

And now I’m nursing a faux broken heart from a pseudo date.

No, it wasn’t the dude in the skirt. It was the one in the hummer. Yeah, the freakin’ hummer.

So what’s a girl to do? I can’t live like this. I can’t go on without any hope or prospects. I don’t want to change. There are a billion people out there. Surely I’ll find what I’m looking for.

And is it too much to ask that he be Muslim?

And maybe educated?

And speak English?

Okay, so now I’m being stupid. Now I feel like I am whining. I am, but it’s okay. I mean, I didn’t love him. How could I love him? I only met him once and the games were for fun. So why does it hurt?

I feel a bit numb. I feel like my head is spinning and I am not sure what to do. Well, I know what I want to do. I also know what I have to do.

“I’m sorry. I can’t go out with you because I like you. And you’re not Muslim. And I don’t play games. I’m really sorry.”

For me, I am sorry.

Day of Firsts

2011-01-05T15:08:00.003-06:00

I want to do another day of firsts on the eleventh of January (1-11-11, see?). I am super excited! Here are my goals:

1. Get at least one person to play with me who has never played before (a first, you see).
2. Possibly make it my first skip day of the year (school year and calendar year).
3. Go out on a first date sometime that day. (Hey, now. Don't judge me. I'm just ready to get out there already and meet someone.)
4. Play something I've never played.
5. Possibly eat something I've never eaten before (this is almost a must for a day of firsts).
6. Visit at least three places I've never been.
7. Possibly turn this into some kind of timed tournament of sorts. (Anyone interested in forming teams?)

I recently played a modified version of day of firsts with a friend of mine and we had a blast. We had to make points throughout the day (for instance, each new experience was five points) doing all sorts of things. Our goal was to make 150 points. We made well over 160. Yay for us! :) Can't wait to do this again? Now, who will join me? Hmmmm....

Online dating

2011-01-04T15:16:00.000-06:00

January brings with it the end of
one online dating venture
and the beginning of a new one.
This will be interesting.
It already is.

Now I have a question that I would
like answered: Are there
no more good men who actually
speak English and live in
my country anymore? It
seems like all my "hits" have
been men who cannot communicate
or don't live in the States
or can't live in the States
(the last one has to go
back for two years per his
contract, but would I mind
moving to Yemen to be with him,
the man I hardly know and have
never actually met?)
or don't pray
or drink (but only socially)
or use colorful language like
bright M&M candies.
I am not ranting. I am
simply wondering.
Surely there is someone
like me out there who
might actually like me,
right? Surely someone wouldn't
mind living in Oklahoma
(at least for three years)
in a house owned by me
(with a swimming pool).
And is it too much to ask
that they speak the same
language as me? At least
decently?

Thank you for your time.
It was so good to chat.
I enjoyed it.
Honestly.

The Year in Blurbs (freehand)

2011-01-01T12:18:00.005-06:00

December 25, 2010
7:10 p.m.

2010 was the year of
online dating
a new blog
beginning of the end of hope

2010 brought with it
a new home
for half off
and a new TV

2010 was the year of the
nose ring
and the year a
friend lost her ring
(only to find it in
someone else's bed)

2010 gave me
tears and heartache
for a friend
and uncle

2010 was the year
I didn't get married
and the year
she didn't have her baby

2010 was the summer
of broken promises
and loss of innocence

2010 belongs to
Saleem, winter dreams
and Matt, summer romance
and other internet flings
ending in dings

2010 was lonely
2010 was also hopeful

2010 warranted the return
of brotherly love
and completing the unit

2010 gave another road trip
and lush-ious reasons
to be joyful

2010 was the year of
hugging shoe

2010 was the year I went
into the tunnel and
was enveloped in darkness

2010 was the year of commitment
to my book

2010 is the year I made
my first fire in a
fireplace of my own

2010 was yellow and green

2010 was the year of the
Indian summer

2010 gave me a glimpse of
what a true eclipse is

2010 was the year I had
an accident that
ended well

2010 is the year I bought
a dead man's bed

2010 is the year my father
wept for the unwed me

2010 is the year I
felt reckless

2010 is also the year
of confessions

2010 is the year a cut
sounded crazy good
again but only in jest

2010 was the year of loss
but not total

2010 is the year I am glad
to see gone

2010 is the year I hurt my
knee unknowingly

2010 was when a flame burst
forth from what we all
thought was ash

2010 was the year of
disappointing chess moves

2010 was the year I lost
touch with a friend
It's also the year I tried
to get it back

2010 is when I realized I
knew how to play
the game

2010 is the year I realized
I've also lost my youth

2010 is the year I've learned
that it is ironic that one
you have experience, you
can no longer make the
same mistakes, that
knowing what I now know,
I cannot remedy the
past mistakes

2010 was the year that the
me of today did things so
the me of tomorrow wouldn't
have to

2010 was the year work really
began to hurt

2010 was the year of remediation
and lack of meditation

2010 was the year of the
test and retest

2010 was the year of Zain
(both of them)

2010 was Dallas, St. Louis,
Kansas City, Chicago,
D.C., and Los Angeles

2010 was beach time and
Jay Leno

2010 was Glee and Grey

2010 was sunshine and
a dash in sleds

2010 was bridge mending
and burning

2010 was the year of girls
day renewed with polish
and movies and cheesecake

2010 was the year of love
for book of unfaltering
goodness and evil

2010 was the year of purging
and splurging

2010 was the year of the
first teacher prom

2010 was the year of
righteous wrongness

2010 gave me a good few weeks
of desolate isolation

2010 was the year I
kept a secret--
and wished I could've
kept it even from me

2010 was the year of
skin dipping,
chocolatey goodness

2010 was the year the divide
grew on

2010 is the year of yearning
and flirting with emptiness

2010 was the year of bike
riding and a new passion
growing

2010 was the year of the iphone
and a larger bill

2010 was the year of tank tops
and new jeans

2010 was the year of strength

2010 was the year of firsts,
twice over

2010 was the year of netflix
and gmail

2010 was the year of green balloons
and gold ribbon and lights
and help from good friends

2010 was the year of engagement
parties and weddings for
fun and work

2010 was the year of absolving
partnerships

2010 was the year deemed
"over my dead body"

2010 was the year of half our deen
and eharmony and misterandmisses and,
if she'd had her way, Shaadi too

2010 was the year of #2's--
husbands and children

2010 was the birth of water
and the death of pop

2010 was the year of Georgetown
and seniors

2010 was the year of bagel
sandwiches and OKC

2010 was the year of Sarah and Yasmo

2010 was the year of looking in
and other Masjid funness

2010 was Laylatul Qadr
at the Masjid by accident

2010 was IHOP and little brothers

2010 was haunted houses
and ripped flip flops

2010 was mystery men
and canopies

2010 was HeyTell and
iPray and iQuran

2010 was t-shirts--lots
and lots of t-shirts

2010 was two more classes
of future teachers

2010 was phone calls and
evaluations

2010 was Alaskan money

2010 was lock-ins and a hopeful

2010 meant remembering the
leave and cold heaters

2010 was an opening of a
gashing wound I am
constantly trying to heal

2010 brought new shop
and bonding for them

2010 was rats and roaches

2010 was a rekindling of
writing on all surfaces-
napkins, journals,
ticket, receipts, old
agendas, schedules, hands
and jeans

2010 was a broken laptop
(or was that 2009?)

2010 was Obama and
Brittney and Madonna

2010 was the year of discontent
with fast food nothingness

2010 was wheat thins, sandwiches
and chocolate fountains

2010 was remembering how
to almost fall in love

2010 was.

8:08ish (phone dead, lights out)

2010-12-22T22:21:00.002-06:00

The next time you see me,
walk up behind me and give
me just a taste of hope.

Slip your hand into mine.
Palm to palm,
I will close my eyes and
pretend it isn’t me.
For a moment,
I may pretend it isn’t you.

I will close my eyes and
lose myself in the hope
of a hand kiss.

It all makes me so sad,
but there is happiness in that sadness.

Epiphany.

2010-10-24T22:27:00.002-05:00

As I lift the heavy lawnmower into the trunk by myself again (not so confident this time, not as easy), I suddenly know where the mysterious long bruise on my leg came from.

Here's to not waiting for help. Here's to the bruises I can explain and the ones I can't. Here's to my headache. Here's to my misery, looming just overhead, like the stones in the doorway.

2010-10-24T22:06:00.001-05:00

"Sometimes you just can't help who you love," she said to me as I peeled the potatoes. "And sometimes you just have to learn to love them from afar," she continued from the sink filled with dishes. The meal was meant to impress. The words to leave their mark.

2010-09-27T17:11:00.003-05:00

Dear Middle-of-the-night Drive Home,

Thank you for allowing me clarity and relaxation. Thank you for the deer you allowed me to see in the city. Thank you for providing such clear thoughts and pure intentions as only felt when I am with you. Thank you for the cool breeze and stars bright.

Sincerely,
Kamlah

2010-09-27T17:10:00.001-05:00

I would like to salute my (super) hero. Thank you super glue for giving my shoes new life (even if some of you is still stuck to my thumb)!

2010-09-22T23:16:00.001-05:00

Midnight showing of "The Goonies" this weekend?

YES, please! :)

On the Brightside [OFFICIAL VIDEO]

2010-09-17T14:46:00.000-05:00

I'm totally loving this. And I rather like Nevershoutnever...

2010-09-14T13:47:00.004-05:00

I am
not a fan
of the

PROFANE

or the

MUNDANE

or the

LAME.

I am
not so into
all the

DRAMA

or the

LUST-o-RAMA

or the

HATE-YOUR-MAMA.

I am
beyond liking
these

PAPERS

or the

HATERS

or the

IMPERSONATERS.

I
do
like
some
of
t
h
e w
orld
thou
gh
.

Translation please.

2010-08-30T23:10:00.003-05:00

No. He didn't actually mean it was a good idea.

No. I apparently got it all wrong.

You see, what he really meant was that maybe I should try and then fail.

Or maybe that I could succeed but that there should be someone to buy the furniture as she said.

So now I'm stuck with a house, a brother, and a nice size pool.

And although I can say alhamdulillah and be happy, I must now step up project Mawadeh. The search for him must begin anew and now with a stronger sense of urgency and desperation.

Now it really begins.

Friends, look harder before I do something a little crazy.

I have half a mind to ask someone to just do it for the relative comfort of at least a good while.

That's what friends are for, right? Marriage by default?

2010-08-29T22:46:00.001-05:00

I really like writing random, obscure things.

I also really love Elizabeth Gaskell.

And you, secret reader.

And you, voice in my head. I am particularly fond of you.

Ramblings in the night

2010-08-29T02:10:00.002-05:00

And what, exactly, would you have me say?

I was and am sometimes stupid?
I still think about the past from time to time and realize those faulty moves and useless hints?
That I still fight the very thought of his grabbing my hand when least expected?
That as much as I try, the back of my mind still houses that dumb hope girls learn to rely on?

I am sorry it is this way.

I am trying to remove the feeling.

But there is only so much a girl can do when moving to Alaska isn't really an option.

It's all good in the end though, right?

Alhamdulillah.

2010-08-24T11:38:00.003-05:00

Reading your words like a watermelon jolly rancher: slowly letting it melt on my tongue lasting for hours.

New list

2010-08-15T00:36:00.003-05:00

Again, I wish to write and while writing, number my thoughts.

1. I got yelled at for not being married the other day. We were having a conversation unrelated to my own personal problems when the explosion happened. I get it; really, I do. But I can't help it now. I am trying; honestly, I am.

2. I bought a house. My mom is mad. Not because she doesn't want me to own real estate, but because I should be married before investing in said property. I get it; really I do. But if I'm going to be single, I may as well make some smart purchases, right?

3. I am not excited about my house anymore. I mean, ALHAMDULILLAH for EVERYTHING. I am sincerely content with all that I have and all that I have been blessed to experience. Alhamdulillah. However, I am now second guessing my choices. First of all, it took so long to actually purchase the home. Second, my mother is now making me sound like I'm a little stupid in this plan. Again, I get it; really, I do. But I can't do anything about it now. It's done. Now I must live there...for three years. And I must pray to find the man who will live with me, as my husband, insha'Allah.

4. What would be absolutely, utterly fantastic and amazing would be to find the man and get that ball rolling before I actually move in. Then my mom, my dad, and my nafs would be satisfied.

5. I am not holding my breathe for number four.

6. I am not boy crazy, alhamdulillah. I never really did anything bad. Alhamdulillah, I was, and am, I think, a good girl. And yet, here I am....waiting.

7. I make dua for the right man all the time. I ask for him at the right time. I ask that he be kareem, latif, salih, and sabir (generous, kind, righteous, and patient).

8. Those would make awesome names for sons should I have any (insha'Allah).

9. This whole post is all related. In retrospect, it all sounds stupid. I am not sure I want to post it, though I will because I no longer feel I have anything to hide. Too old to care, and it seems like all I think about anymore.

10. I still want this to be my year. I am doing all I can to make it happen. Though what I do can only be part of the equation, at least I will feel satisfied with the results if I try. wa Allahu alam.

11. I think I will travel to Libya next year insha'Allah. I'm for real this time, though it all depends on all that happens from now til then.

12. I would also like to make Hajj, but mother reminds me that I should just get married first and then go with the hubby dearest. Okay, mom.

13. There is another ache in my heart for my bros. There is a loss of iman that breaks my heart. Not just my biological brothers and not just the brothers either; my sisters are in need of some iman boost too.

14. I have been listening to Islamic talks more and more and taking their ideas to heart more and more. I sometimes think about different things at random times. I feel like I don't know anything completely, but I do reflect on what I learn.

15. I am not sure if I'm really ready for school to start. I have a lot to do to get ready for next week. Insha'Allah I'll get it all done.

16. I am going to visit a relative who lives about an hour and a half away tomorrow. I need a driver to take me there and back so I can work on my course materials. Or better yet, someone else can do the work and I'll drive! :)

17. I am really tired. When I started typing, I didn't think I'd be able to stop. Now I can barely keep my eyes open.

18. I am confused about things. I thought I knew the way it was. I thought it was crystal clear. I was wrong. I am as confused as ever.

19. I feel stronger in my iman. Alhamdulillah. I have faith that all will turn out for the best. I just wish the best would get here soon, insha'Allah!

20. Alhamdulillah.

21. Alhamdulillah.

22. Alhamdulillah!

Thank you, Jane Austen.

2010-08-15T00:32:00.002-05:00

"'Well,' said Charlotte, 'I wish Jane success with all my heart; and if she were married to him to-morrow, I should think she had as good a chance of happiness as if she were to be studying his character for a twelvemonth. Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other or ever so similar beforehand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always continue to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.'"

-from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Ramadan Mubarak!

2010-08-12T23:22:00.002-05:00

There are a few things I want to really accomplish this month, insha'Allah.

1. Eat healthy, eat light, eat right. Not just because it is better for us, but most importantly, it is the Sunnah of the Prophet (peace be upon him). Which leads to...

2. Do more actions that are sunnah. Whether it be reciting certain surahs in a day or even just saying specific dua that he (peace be upon him) used to say. The little Husn-ul-Muslim book (and super awesome iphone app) are my go to source for completing this goal.

3. Study the Quran. Every year the goal is just to read the Quran from cover to cover. This year I want to really study the Quran rather than just reading. I've been listening to the Brother Nouman Ali Khan's tafseer of Juz Amma and must say (for probably the umpteenth time) that it is AMAZING masha'Allah! And now his partner in the Bayyinah Program, Shaykh Abdul Nasir Jangda, is completing Juz Tabarak. It's all free online at www.bayyinah.org/podcast, or itunes, and www.muslimmatters.org. Definitely worth checking out, masha'Allah.

4. Do more volunteer work. Whether it is something at the Masjid, helping out a friend, or working at food bank, I want to give back a little more. I want to make sure that I am working hard to give back.

The goal in all of this is to build good habits. I want to make sure that even when Ramadan is over, the spirit still lives. I want to make sure that I don't miss out on the small deeds and that I do them consistently. Insha'Allah.

There are more goals, like the husband hunt is still on of course, but it's late and it's better to leave some things for tomorrow. :)

May Allah bless and guide us all during this holy month and always. May He accept all of our worship and repentance.

Oh Allah, give us the best in this life, the best in the next life, and protect us from Hell. Ameen.

2010-08-08T23:32:00.002-05:00

After praying my Maghrib today, it was as if I've never really prayed before. I have looked at the meanings before. I have studied my prayer. But it has been too long since I put such consideration into practice. When the child made a comment about her prayer, I thought to myself "Yeah right, kid!" I thought that maybe she was just young and easily impressionable. I was sitting in a class all weekend because I wanted it to happen to me, yet I found myself skeptical of someone else's enlightenment and unwilling almost to make it happen for myself. I know my prayer at maghrib was still not perfect. I realize that I still need to muster up the humility I should display in front of my Creator. I also know that I have never really prayed, never truly connected in prayer like I did today. Alhamdulillah.

Nancy Sinatra Bang Bang

2010-08-06T00:26:00.001-05:00

I was blind and he was sure
We talked about feeding the poor
He stood tall and I felt proud
He would sometimes help me out
Bang bang
I just fell down
Bang bang
I don’t know how
Bang bang
He stole my heart
Bang bang
All my love gone out

2010-08-04T09:43:00.003-05:00

I dreamed of a fictional Judy Garland movie and being late on the first day of school. I must really be worried about school. And I apparently have a secret affinity for Judy Garland. Who knew?

Update

2010-06-06T00:38:00.003-05:00

I can't say it was a false alarm, but I can say it wasn't for real. Sorry ladies, I wasn't the one.

I cannot bring myself to marry Laurie. I have to wait for my German professor. :)

I am starting to think that it really is me. I am afraid I see a long life of singlehood ahead of me.

2010-06-06T00:37:00.001-05:00

"If I were a drinker, today would be a hard liquor day."

2010-04-02T22:53:00.003-05:00

Taken from elsewhere:

I think he just might be the one. But I'm so afraid to let him be the one.

Why are they playing Christmas music in the halls?

2009-12-16T12:33:00.001-06:00

Last I checked, I was teaching at a freakin' PUBLIC school!

Just call me Scrooge...

It is already tomorrow.

2009-10-12T09:22:00.002-05:00

#1: Always think of possible titles first. Stupid Girl and the Great Pretender

#2: Always think of the sounds. The music that generally plays in my head is clown music. Think circus on steroids. But I’m anything but clown music or tiny dogs and giant cats. I am a bit more complex. I have such thoughts that drown out the madness and clear away reality.

#3: Explain who you are. I am the girl who sits in the car because it is too cold and stands in the rain because I will not melt and gazes at the river because it is constantly moving. I am the girl who watched the ferris wheel turn, counted her money, hid her purse, and then just drove away. One tear remaining in the corner of her left eye, I am the girl who helps and needs none but one. I am, indeed, the girl who can’t stand it anymore.

#4: Set goals in life. That’s it. I must decide what to do. I absolutely cannot wait helplessly or search aimlessly. Today, I was silent. I had all the thoughts in my head that I really wanted to share and write for the world to read, but I lost them all in the darkness. Sometimes when I write, all I can write are the circles that sound so good as I type them on the electric keyboard. All I really want to write, I cannot because they are too dangerous to be said aloud.

#5: Make it up as you go. I am, I think, happy most of the time. But how can I feel anything but sadness when I am left out? Do I blame them? Can I? Maybe I am always Debby-Downer when I thought I was Susie-Sunshine. Maybe all I do is complain. Maybe what I think I am, I am not. Maybe I am simply forgettable. I try to do to other what I would want done to me, but maybe I do not. THINK. Maybe when I thought I was being nice, I was just being selfish. Was I? It’s a rhetorical question. I don’t know. I know I have been left out.

#6: Shut up, you oxymoron. I am lonely standing here with all my friends. And she is leaving me behind. They all are. Do I have to search within the last generation to find a new one? Can’t do that. Maybe number two will seal the deal.

#7: Skip it, why don't ya? So what am I waiting for? I always used to have a back-up. There is not one now. Now there is despair. Not really despair, but sadness. Hollowness. Disgust. I look pretty yesterday. I was happy now. I spoke tomorrow.

#8: Think of shapes and all will be well. Circumlocution can be my best friend. But even in circles, I speak the truth. Even if you can’t understand.

#9: No harm in entertainment. I live vicariously through movies. I broke up with books ever since sea monsters came into vision.

#10: Reflect. My head hurts and I go to pray now. Be back momentarily.

#11: Never neglect to talk in your head. I just prayed for you. Not you reading, but the you I will have read this one day. I am not so desolate as to think there will not be a you, but I am not so pompous as to think that you are certain. Maybe in order to find you, I must figure out exactly who you are. But that is harder than figuring out what you are not. Let’s start there.

#12: Define others. You are not the one who chooses to be unsocial when I want to go out. You are not the guy who will not make friends. You are not the guy who can’t be polite to my friends. You are not the guy who finds religion only on the holidays. You are not the one who runs away or stays locked up. You are not the one who screams and curses. You are not the one who settles. You are not the one who forgets your family. You are not like those who give not. You are not the selfish guy or the greedy guy or the scared guy. You are not the one who belittles. You are not too proud and not too soft.

#13: What are we talking about again? So who are you exactly. I type now with my eyes closed. I am not trying to forget where I am or who I am. I am just trying to rid myself of the external factors of the room of this world. Who are you? You are proud of religion and family. You strive for excellence in faith and heart. Is language important anymore? Is race? Is my red-headed, blue-eyed reincarnation of my mother important anymore? Is education? Yes, education is most important.

#14: So what's with the number system? And where am I headed? Will I really leave? I am having a mid-mid-life crisis. I think it is likely. Absurd, but likely.

#15: It's true. Flaws aplenty: I check my email obsessively. I make up songs spur of the moment. I cannot sing worth a dime. My face feels dry right now (where’s my stinking lotion?). My shirts are sometimes to short and my pants are sometimes not loose enough. I have wanted it rainy when other will sunshine. I have laughed aloud.

#16: I think, therefore I write gibberish. But I will be going back. Maybe more pictures to become wallpaper. Maybe more deer to scare the living daylights out of me. Maybe sunrise and sunset and midday glory. Maybe better friends and happier moments. Maybe nothing but a vacation. Even that makes me smile.

#17: For real this time. Spend ten minutes everyday to call someone you haven’t talked to in a while. Write a letter to someone who will appreciate it (stripes most definitely included).

#18: That's it? I have no car stereo and only one working ear bud. Life is sometimes too good.

Understanding

2009-08-19T14:51:00.002-05:00

The feeling
-helpless defeat-
hasn't hit for quite some time
-one, two, or three years?-
and it seems I've almost forgotten
-or so I try-
the last conquest.

The feeling
-hopeful indulgence-
hasn't bothered to visit for a while
-two, four, six months?-
and it seems I always give up
-or so I tell myself-
the first good try.

The feeling
-endearing expectation-
hasn't happened upon me just yet
-who knows when?-
and it seems I guard the door
-or so I pretend-
to the organ.

The feeling
-generous content-
has yet to visit my corner
-Oh God, let it come-
and so the world has passed me by
-all for paper and prestige-
as I wait.

2009-08-10T16:13:00.002-05:00

Four thousand two hundred and thirty-eight miles in five days is a great distance to travel with a good friend, especially when reading about zombies, being flagged down by "ladies of the night" (only to realize they're not and you're actually on the wrong side of the street), and stopping at all the awesome Masjids on the way.

L'chaim! ;)

Dear, orange is not your color.

2009-07-26T23:39:00.004-05:00

I came.
How could I not?
I don't hear you or see you for weeks at a time it seems.
I miss, but not this you.
The you of so long ago.

Read.
Read in the name of your Lord.

You don't like to read?

Knowledge.

Iman.

Have they left your heart completely?

Tawba.

Taqwa.
Did they fall on deaf ears?
You forget the words of only yesteryear?
Have I betrayed you?

Don't worry, you weren't the only one to make me cry.

too long

2009-07-02T12:12:00.000-05:00

I enjoyed my trip to Eureka Springs. Arkansas is simply beautiful. No matter what anyone else says about it, I really enjoy driving through Arkansas. I just might go again next week. I took off next Thursday through Sunday for a trip. I thought we were going to Houston, then it changed to Chicago, and now it looks like no one can go. That's okay, I'm headed out. I can just take my own car and drive, insha'Allah. I'm flexible. But since I've already taken the days off, I want to make the most of it. Speaking of taking days off, I can't believe I signed up to work this much during my VACATION! I have forgotten how hard it is to work with little kids. Alhamdulillah, I have patience, but it is seriously killing me. I have to come home and take a nap almost every day. Today, I had to FORCE myself to go to Riverside! FORCE myself. I LOVE to visit my favorite spot. I enjoy the walk/jog. I enjoy the breeze and the time to think and jam to my music. And even though I made myself go today, I enjoyed every second. I actually stayed really long. I had far too much fun sprinting across the bridge at nearly full speed in the wind of the biker who was probably annoyed by my presence. I had a great workout and then I sat and just decided to think. I have a soundtrack to my life. I choose the song and think. Sometimes the wind is the song, sometimes the passing cars and the fishermen. Sometimes it's a little sould and a flash of jazz or a hint of pop or a tad of blues. Today, I don't know what it was. It was just my thoughts. A little sister run away and I don't know why. A brother locked away and I know all too well why. I wondered how many of our bros are locked away and how broken the system is. I wondered how many of our sisters decide the running is better than sitting. I can't fix it, and that has taken all of me. I don't have the energy anymore. I sat and waited. And as I waited, I asked myself what I was waiting for. Which made me think of who I was waiting for and loneliness that doesn't really bother me anymore. But it does. I sat alone and didn't want anyone to bother me. I didn't feel like conversation or the facade of pleasantries. I only wanted to think. I was kind of hoping for a miracle. I was kind of hoping I'd see one of them. I thought I had more than once; I lost them both again. I am at the edge of my water. I don't know whether to jump in or just sit at the edge. I don't feel like talking in metaphors really, but I can't help it. I am a little lonely, but I am embraced in love. I am sad, but I insist on being happiness. I am waiting, but I am far too busy. The clock is ticking, in reality, and I have to catch the train. Ooh, speaking of trains, maybe I could just take a train. I have been wanting to do that. Speaking of wanting, I think I will find a ticket to My Fair Lady this Sunday. I love that musical!!! Speaking of musicals, I am also going to plan on seeing one of the Wicked performances this month, insha'Allah.

There much better.

2009-06-13T00:11:00.001-05:00

In the sweet summer months,
I leave my Window open
for you In the night
so you caN gently
caress away the Day.

The end?

2009-05-14T14:57:00.003-05:00

I'm done! I turned in my final paper a few moments ago!!! Woohoo!

Graduation is on Monday! I'm super excited! Alhamdulillah!

Oh, but there's that one little problem I need to take care of tonight. Here we go again.

Then again, whatev! I'm done!

WOOHOO! Time to celebrate!

Alhamdulillah.

Remember?

2009-04-19T22:53:00.002-05:00

It was fourteen years ago today that an explosion rocked the core of the heartland. I remember the day and I remember the feeling. I remember the way it changed our view of the world and changed the way we looked at ourselves. Today I experienced the overwhelming need to cry and had a reason. As I looked at the shoes, and keys, and debris that was once a part of someone's life, there was an understanding of how hate can destroy and how helpless we really are. I watched people around me cry, remembering fathers and wives and children lost.

I walked in alone. But once inside, I walked hand-in-hand with ghosts.

"We come here to remember those who were killed, those who survived and those changed forever. May all who leave here know the impact of violence. May this memorial offer comfort, strength, peace, hope and serenity."

Visit the Oklahoma City National Memorial site by clicking the link above (the quote) or below. If you cannot go in person, the website gives a good idea of how beautiful the site is. Beautiful but sorrowful. Bittersweet.

www.OklahomaCityNationalMemorial.org

Self-censorship

2009-04-18T22:58:00.006-05:00

I'm not really one to block my thoughts. I'd much rather write without worrying about the consequences, post without fear of reprecussions, and speak without being threatened. I am in no way harmed or under any oppression. Well, except the opression of my own hand. I am censoring myself. I can't really write all the things I want. Saying them would be too hard. Explaining them too difficult. Accepting them too deprecating. But above all, to write them would only expose my own flaws, and that is something the powerful never allow.

----------------------------------

I always have weird dreams, but last night, they were dreams of all things I fear. They have left me with a funny taste in my mouth and fear churning in the pit of my stomach.

----------------------------------

"Do you ever wonder why all this is happening? Do you ever feel that you're getting the shaft because of it? Is that selfish?" she asked, all the words almost coming out at once, the confession, the one too shady to utter, only just announced and the silence only thus broken.

"No. Not at all." The voice was soft and true. "It was just time for bad things again. They come in cycles. It was just time."

With hardship comes ease. Verily, with hardship comes ease. (Quran 94: 5-6)

2009-04-13T23:33:00.002-05:00

I want to study abroad. I am applying for a scholarship for a public high school teacher to take a trip to study far from home for about ten days. In order to form my response to the essay question, I felt that I needed to do some research. I read a great article about the need for more teachers to travel and bring that perspective to their students. The article "Where in the World Is My English Teacher?" was truly inspiring. In the article, the author mentions an essay by Alice Walker. I looked it up (isn't that what happens when you research? one thing leads to another?) and read it. The essay, like a lot of Alice Walker's works, was easy to read. It was like she was standing in front of me telling me about life and her experience. I enjoyed reading the essay and wanted to go straight to the bookstore and buy the collection of her essays. Too bad I stayed at the library until 10! Oh, well. There's always tomorrow. Besides, I still need to buy my copy of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. ;)

Whoever you are, you'll likely enjoy the essay too. Check it out: http://books.google.com/books?id=m9vSViOPwN8C&pg=PA187&dq=%22The+Universe+Responds%22&lr=

2009-04-13T23:32:00.002-05:00

I think I will just lie here a while,
until the lump in my throat dissipates,
and the throbbing in my head ceases.

2009-03-10T08:06:00.002-05:00

I am completely, utterly exhausted.

A project, school, work, AND daylight savings time all in one weekend? What was I thinking?

Daylight savings time? Ba-humbug! Give me back my hour!

Blind spot

2009-02-27T08:23:00.003-06:00

It's been quite some time since I have actually had to open that old vault of the hidden and share the darkness with someone else. Oh, it's not all coldness; there is a light and color hidden deep within it's recesses. That is what is hidden with the utmost care and sensitivity. The damp road through is really short-lived, though the end isn't really celebration.

The lock is not too hard to open. The key is around here somewhere; it is in his speech, his care, his trust, his hope. The key is almost in his grasp; it is in his kindness, his tenderness, his intention, his unceasing attention.

2009-02-18T09:18:00.000-06:00

I want my name to be
synonymous with
reliable
and
honest.

2009-02-09T15:39:00.003-06:00

DesIring Something
other thAn what was delivered
Finding out the Past
really wasn't Pretty
and neither is the world
at your feet
In times of greatness
and times of weakness,
it is exactly what
you didn't want
and exactly what you got
I was foolish to expect
something more
when nothing was there
to begin with
Being young and
foolish is no excuse
for being asleep
when the world
stop asking us why

near the end of apathy

2009-01-31T23:50:00.003-06:00

I am okay
and I am alright
but damn the
stubborn tears
still hot in my eyes.

2009-01-30T15:23:00.001-06:00

I feel like she is making a mistake, and that I, in letting her make that mistake, am making an even greater mistake. He should never have hit. NEVER. But it is far more than that. I helped her leave, and I saw no problem in that at the time. But now some of the things she has said are not exactly true. I know she fears for the baby, but she has forgotten to hope for the baby. I don’t think it is fair. I don’t know what I would do in her situation. But I do think she should give it another shot. All the issues are out in the open. If he’s willing to start, shouldn’t she? Not for their own sakes, but for the baby’s? I have mixed feelings about it, but I’m really leaning towards a resolve to the problem if he is now willing to try. I think it would help to lay everything out on the table and be honest and straightforward (as they should have always been to begin with). I will have a heart-to-heart with her when I see her fact to face. Some things are too difficult to bring up over the phone. The issues of religion and the sanctity of marriage (not what I mean, but close enough). The issue of raising a child with her father and finding yourself in life. I don’t know how to say it, but I know I will. It’s my job. I wish I could talk to him. I think I will. What could it possibly hurt? I know she is afraid that he’ll take the baby and run, but I don’t see that happening. I know she is afraid to make him love the baby and have that be an issue in their possible (nearly probable) divorce. I think he should go with me to see her. I think he should have gone a long time ago. I think there is something wrong with her; something to make her think this way. She got what she wanted and then gave up on the rest. I don’t think it is right.

We still talk about marriage though. She still says she wants to find me a guy. It’s a little ironic. I told her about the guy who was talking to me while still married. She told me a similar story. It was ironic and funny. I haven’t told her that I’m seriously working on it. I’m not turning anyone away immediately. I’m giving everyone a chance. It won’t be easy for anyone, I think. But I am ready. If only I could let go.

Pseudo-date

2009-01-26T13:39:00.003-06:00

So it was all a waste of time.
I mean I don't mind meeting people,
really one of the reasons I didn't mind
meeting someone new in an open venue,
but he already knew it was all for naught.
It's a little funny to me though.
All in all, at least I can say I did try
and I didn't just run away from a chance,
no matter how unlikely.

I drank an entire tall cup
of hot tea in an hour
WITHOUT a bit of sugar.
Ironically, I like a little tea
with my sugar. :)

He talked of himself for most of the time.
I listened.

He talked of relations with a sort of lack of respect.
I secretly despised
(for who was I to be told
what should be family secrets).

He talked of the past and failed marriage.
I listened
(knowing all too well that
it was a sort of deal breaker of sorts).

Overall, it wasn't a bad "date."
I only write so that one day
I will remember
with a little
chuckle.

2009-01-23T12:14:00.002-06:00

makes me think of what I (have) missed
what I am (always) missing

perplexing

2009-01-23T11:43:00.004-06:00

someone called me last night
and asked me out
well, kind of
sort of
maybe?

don't really know who he is
but made a plan
well, i guess
somewhat
maybe?

this has never really happened
but i was sleeping
sort of

i was ambiguous, as i usually am
when i don't know what
to do really

don't really know if i want to meet him
though i'd promised myself
i'd actually give guys a try
this year, rather than
just putting them
down after a
minute

on the other hand, can't really imagine
myself telling my dad, or mom
for that matter, about the
random phone call or
the weirdness
of it all

i could be wrong though
maybe he just needs help with homework
or something like that

as a matter of fact, i really almost
asked if that is what it's about
but i don't think i'm naive
enough to think that
or stupid enough
to go alone

i could still be wrong though

helping someone with their english
homework is what i do best
i think

the conversation on the phone
only lasted a minute and a half
and i was in bed almost asleep
when my phone rang, vibrated really,
under my pillow
it was a random number,
and since i've been getting
random calls from random numbers,
people leaving weird messages
or not responding when i answer,
i decided to try it again
and then i was confused
i couldn't think of a way to weasel
out of the situation,
something i am usually very good at,
and just sort of left it at
"can you call me tomorrow"
i almost thought it didn't happen
i mean, it could have
all been in my head
right?

wait a minute though
maybe
just maybe
he'll pay for dinner
instead of me paying
for it all,
that can only happen
to a girl once,
right?

Happiness is…

2009-01-14T15:22:00.006-06:00

scattered showers right after a sun storm
finishing a good book in less than three days
jogging a mile with a cool river’s breeze on my back
admitting an unreciprocated love despite the complications
singing with all your soul even when your voice is unpleasant
dancing in a closet to your own peppy beat
leftover pieces of birthday cake
a pink scarf on a black day
a green-yellow banana
big Gerber daisies
fluffy clouds
a baby
visiting friends
praying for the best
asking for forgiveness
skipping with the sisters
a comment you leave on my blog
a smile in a face, a glimmer in an eye
gum that last longer than twenty minutes
whipped cream in a warm mug of hot cocoa
this conversation I’m having with you in my head
not the loss of a hint of sadness in my tone
being asked to be a friend’s bridesmaid
every single hope and prayer left in me
every thought of her that still flutters
pictures both in mind & on shelf
applying your own nail polish
absolutely perfect highlights
strong and somewhat scary
a great finished product
a stunning red dress
the best flat shoes
a pedicure
writing

The journey towards finding happiness will never quite end...nor could these thoughts ever be quite complete.

Clairvoyance

2008-12-25T23:20:00.001-06:00

Recently, it had been the
Compounding desire for
Unmediated
Tradition.

It had been the
Crushing hope of
Not-quite
Beauty.

Soon, it will be the
Losing interests of the
Hopelessly
Shattered.

It will be the
Quiet means of ending
Internal
Turmoil.

Currently, it is the deep
Profound feeling of
Romantic
Melancholy.

It is the unexpected
Rise of hopes and
Unwanted
Pressures.

What are friends for?

2008-12-08T23:08:00.000-06:00

http://harolds-planet.blogspot.com/2008/12/always-take-hug-along-with-you-you-just.html

Going Under

2008-12-01T09:41:00.006-06:00

I thought that maybe
--just maybe--
if I learned to loathe
-- really hate--
then I'd know how to live
--seriously live--
but instead I've become ill
--honestly sick--
and malevelent where I once
--too long ago--
cared in spite of reason and hope
--alone and lost--

So now I drown myself
--too quickly--
in an ocean of strong words
--dark, cold words--
but the stars among the darkness
--resolute and discerning--
feeling the earthquake below
--tenderness cracking--
has left me on the shores
--among the sharp rocks--
for words cannot kill
--only injure--

HAPPY TURKEY DAY!

2008-11-27T21:51:00.000-06:00

I LOVE TURKEY!

I really love cooking for a crowd. Makes me happy.

not what i meant, but it will have to do (or "HOW CAN I STAND ON YOUR HEAD WITHOUT KILLING YOU?")

2008-11-24T09:22:00.003-06:00

Superfluous Suppositions of Superiority

Comments like Questions or Killer Colloquialism or Cute Clarifications

Sipping Something Sweet as we Sit Serenely Staring at Stars Somehow Starkly Subtle and Stupidly Surreal Somewhere South of Skiatook in a Superbly fashioned Stone Suite

Udhiya Confessions: The True Story of an American Muslim

2008-11-11T10:33:00.005-06:00

Abraham was commanded by God to sacrifice his son as he would slaughter an animal for food. A prophet of God, Abraham approached his son and told him of God’s plan. Ishmael did not fight the word of God, though surely it pained him. A devout believer in the Most High, Ishmael went with his father to what would surely be his untimely death. The feelings that Abraham must have felt that day would surely torture any soul, but he had faith in God and his message, taking his son to what he thought would be a quick but brutal death at his own hands. And just as Abraham was about to spill the blood of his beloved son, God intervened with yet another message, this time to spare Ishmael’s life. Instead of killing his son, he was to sacrifice a ram.

Clearly, God tested two of his greatest servants and prophets, and they passed with flying colors. We remember this great test each year at Eid Al-Adha, the Muslim holiday at the conclusion of the yearly pilgrimage, Hajj. This day we sacrifice a sheep, goat, or ram and feed the poor. Feeding our friends and our families from this udhiya, we remember the trial of two great men. We remember their willingness to sacrifice for their Lord. And even while eating tasty lamb kabobs fresh off the grill, we remember their test, and, even if for only a moment, we consider our own. We remember the trials of our pasts. We consider the likelihood of trials in the near future.

Take your shoes off in the garage!

Before I explain it all to you, you have to understand that my dad was raised on a farm. In the middle of nowhere in Libya (North Africa), my dad can, and will if you get him started, tell you stories of shooting wild jackrabbits and herding the sheep. He’ll tell you, whether you’re listening or not, about the scorpions and the snakes, too. He’s got stories about his entire family eating from one plate and living in a house built into the ground because it’s too hot during the day and too cool at night.

Before going further, you have to understand that Tulsa, Oklahoma is not Libya, but being Libyan, my dad brought a lot of his culture with him. You have to know that even in our three bedroom home (above ground of course) with a good sized backyard and air conditioning in the summer, my dad is Libyan and a country boy. He has his garden out back, he insists on hanging the clothes on the line despite a working dryer, and uses the water from the washer to water his pepper plants. And at least three times a year, we have sheep (or goats or rams) in our backyard. We live in the city.

What kind of dog is that?

Have you ever seen sheep or goats? They’re not usually pretty. There are different kinds, of course. Just like people, they come in different shapes and sizes and colors. They sometimes taste different depending on how and where they were raised and the kind of breed they are. It just goes to show that it’s true: you can’t judge a book by its cover, or a sheep by its wool, or a person by her head scarf.

My hijab, the sometimes sparkly, sometimes plain, sometimes bright pink head scarf, sometimes throws people off. A glance in my direction is enough to label me an Arab (I am—half anyway) and a Muslim (I most obviously am). It may be enough for someone to attach terrorist, foreigner, anti-American, anti-Semite, non-English speaker, and oppressed to me, but I did not condone the 9/11 attacks, I was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, I proudly sing the anthem at every football game, I actually TEACH English, and I am anything but oppressed. I am proud: proud of my heritage, proud of my country, and proud of my religion. I haven’t always been this way, and I’m sure I’ll change even more, but my experiences, good and bad, have shaped my being. Even the ones related to sheep.

Once, Ali was supposed to hold the rope while my dad fastened the rope around the sheep’s neck. Adam was supposed to close the gate. I was supposed to watch Abdullah, who was too little to help and was just supposed to stay out of the way. Of course my brothers, being brothers, don’t always do what they should. Before anyone really realized what was happening, we had a sheep loose. And despite the scramble to reach the gate first, the sheep made his way outside the yard and out in the street. Dad yells and we all stand for just a moment, in complete awe at the dexterity and swiftness of that wooly creature. It was only a moment, because there was a sheep in the street. The only thing left to do was run!

My dad and Adam, being the eldest boy, chased the scared little creature down the street. Two of our neighbors, Mexican friends of ours, ran along to help. I was somewhat mortified. What would everyone say when they see a sheep in the street? What would they think if they knew we sacrificed a sheep in our backyard at least three times a year? And, scariest of all, should I call animal control to report loose livestock within city limits? Even though all the thoughts in my head were serious at the time, the picture of them scrambling after a sheep only leaves me rolling on the floor. Though tears may stream down my face from laughing so hard, the moment was definitely tense, for there’s no way we thought they could catch that animal—and boy would dad be mad to lose $40 worth of delicious meat that would last at least a month.

Luckily for us, this is not a sad story. They were able to recover the animal alive and well, though stuck in a fence. The only question our neighbors down the street had was “What kind of dog was that?” And animal control was never notified of our rituals. But the way I questioned myself that day did have an impact on me. This may have been about a sheep, but it’s really about being a minority.

My father is from Libya, an Arab immigrant with an amazing olive complexion and black hair who came here to complete graduate studies at the University of Tulsa in the 70’s. My mother was a white American with red hair and blue eyes who struggled to complete her Bachelor’s degree in early childhood education by the time she was 38 and I was 13. Together they make me, their fair skinned brown-eyed, brunette daughter. My father was raised Muslim in a Muslim country and lived with his family until moving here. My mother was from a non-practicing Christian family and lived in the same city as her family until moving around, even if for just a while, with my father. My parents fell in love, married, and had four children. My father never forced his beliefs on my mother, but impressed by his lifestyle, she was interested. After meeting some of the Muslim women at the local Masjid, a converted church, she finally decided to accept Islam. When I was four years old, my brother Adam two (Ali and Abdullah not yet entering the family circle), my mother, Patricia May Rose M, became Muslim.

Being both white and Arab has made life interesting. Most of the time, I was on the fringes of society. In a gathering of Arab Muslims, I was the one who didn’t speak Arabic fluently for most of my life, but was praised for my white skin. In a gathering at my grandma’s house for Thanksgiving, we were the ones who couldn’t eat the ham or drink the alcohol. At school, I was the one who didn’t celebrate Christmas. At the Masjid, I was the one who also got Christmas gifts from my grandparents. It wasn’t all bad. I didn’t usually mind being different. I am a white, Arab, Muslim, bilingual American, and I am an educator. I am unique. I am different. I am proud.

(Wool) Hide

A sheep’s wool is somewhat amazing. Offering warmth and protection, the wool on a sheep can be used to make clothing, blankets, and even insulation. Once sheared, a sheep’s wool will grow back. Even though we all may imagine a fluffy white animal that baas and allows us to assign it numbers in order fall asleep, it’s amazing how many different kinds of sheep there are and the different hides each has. Even when they are white, they get dirty and the fur isn’t always very soft and smooth. But no matter how they look exactly, these creatures are still amazing. These creatures give us so much for which we should be thankful. While not generally made of wool, my own cover is something I am thankful for also. Wool may cover the sheep, but my hijab always covers me, even when under intense scrutiny.

In January of 2003, my cover became the center of a local controversy. I walked into a local tag agency to renew my license after my morning classes. I had accidentally let it expire, a mistake far too many of us make, and needed to renew it as soon as possible. I didn’t have to retake the tests and I didn’t have to pay any extra fines. I just needed to take the license picture and pay my license fee. I was ready to go. When I walked up to take the picture, the woman stopped me. “You’ll need to remove your head covering,” she stated. At first I was a little surprised at her ignorance, explaining that it was a part of my religious practices. She repeated that I would need to take off my scarf. Again and again, I explained. The more I explained, the less confident in the system I became. No matter what I said, she would not back down. Finally, I was shocked. My original license had a photo of me wearing my scarf, so why would today be any different? Well, turns out it was quite different. I clarified, “It’s for religious purposes,” but to no avail. It seems that this particular tag agency (“we,” she said) had a “meeting” and decided that all head coverings would be banned “except for a Nun’s,” or so she told me. Turns out her story wasn’t exactly correct, but wasn’t exactly wrong either.

I didn’t take my scarf off for my picture. I didn’t leave without talking to different individuals, including a police officer (via telephone), who all reiterated that I couldn’t take that picture with my scarf, despite having my original license with it. Even though I stood up for what I believed in, I left the tag agency that morning feeling worse than I’ve felt in a long time. I felt less than human. I felt alone and despised. I felt as if someone had slapped me in the face. Little did I know that this was only the beginning.

Leaving the tag agency, I went directly to work. When I told one of my coworkers about the incident, she decided it was important to investigate the matter. As luck would have it, the Tulsa World decided that this was a good story to cover and I was interviewed for a story that would make the front page of the paper the next day. I remember when I talked to Bill Sherman, the reporter, I asked him what to do. I remember thinking that on one hand I was standing up for my rights and on the other hand I was driving illegally. I was torn. I finally decided to try another tag agency. After only a few minutes, I was given my license with a photo of me in my hijab. I remember being nervous about waiting in the line. I remember just praying that this place would allow my picture. When they did, I felt relieved, though I didn’t know this was only half the battle.

When the story ran in the paper, my issue with the scarf became quite a big deal. Turns out that although the rules stated that nothing could be covering the head when the license photo is taken, many tag agencies just looked the other way when a Muslim woman went in for the photo. When the issue was raised, the Oklahoma Department of Transportation began to crack down on those agencies that allowed a head scarf in the picture. It became harder for a Muslim woman to get her license renewed. Although it wasn’t my intention to make things difficult for others, turns out that is exactly what I did.

There were women who were upset with me. They wanted to know why I had to make such a fuss about the whole issue when I could have just gone to another tag agency. Well, to be honest, I couldn’t have let it go. I don’t believe it is fair or just to have a law and not follow it. If the law states that I cannot wear my headscarf and the law is not appropriate, then why not change the law instead of breaking the law? At the time I know that I really just wanted to run and hide, but in retrospect, I am so glad that I stood up for what I believe. Because one woman denied me the right to take my license photo with my scarf, because one newspaper picked up on the story, because the law needed reforming, because others followed through with the battle that began that day in January, that law was changed. And I’m not just a little proud to have been a part of it.

Black sheep

When the Oklahoma City bombing occurred in April 1995, I was only 12, but it had a deep impact on my life. I don’t remember much from my younger days, but I remember the fear that came with that period. Immediately following the attack on the Murrah Federal building, fingers were being pointed, and in my direction no less.

Being a 12 year old in Tulsa, I obviously had nothing to do with the attack. But being a Muslim, I was part of a group that was being blamed. I remember the phone calls to the Masjid, the hate crimes against Muslims right afterwards. There’s something hurtful and utterly painful in hearing a woman whose voice is similar to your grandmother’s uttering racial slurs into the answering machine and damning you to hell. There’s something a little hard to understand when windows to a house of worship are broken and the walls are graffitied. There’s something a little disheartening when an Islamic school has to shut down for fear of the safety of its children. I was only 12 and the incident may have only lasted a few days, but the scars will last a lifetime. It hurts to be the black sheep. It is difficult to be different at times like these. It is hard to be seen as the enemy, even when you’re really not.

The OKC bombing forced me to grow just a little bit more than I needed to in a few days. It forced me to see the world in a different light. I was a child who couldn’t bear to see injustice or racial tension being put in the middle of an adult world. It was one of the first times I can remember feeling like an outcast, but not the last.

I was at home when the planes crashed into the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. I was just about to leave for class. Just like every other American watching the coverage on the news, I was in shock at what was happening. “Surely we have some sort of defense against such outrageous attacks! Surely this isn’t happening!” But it was happening and we didn’t have a defense plan. After the initial shock and disbelief, another question came to mind. I asked my father if we had been blamed. I asked if the Muslims of the world had this cross to bear yet. At the time, I hadn’t known that it was a group of individuals who claimed Islam as their religion and their religion as their purpose for such hatred against humanity. I hadn’t known that the individuals flying those planes into buildings, killing countless innocent individuals, felt they were getting on the one way flight to martyrdom and heaven. All I knew was what I had already experienced. I simply wanted to know when they would blame us. I just wanted to know when I would be targeted for being Muslim. When, in the midst of a black shroud of mourning and misery, with such a veil upon my own head, would I become the black sheep?

It took longer than I thought. Maybe because of the history regarding the OKC bombing and the falsely accused or maybe because we really were all in shock, media outlets were much slower to point fingers. And even in Oklahoma the response to the news of a “Muslim” attack was slow and slight. Although you may hear stories of hate after 9/11, you’re likely to hear more stories of love and community. You’ll hear stories of Americans coming to the houses of their Muslim American neighbors to offer help if they need it. You’ll likely hear stories of Americans going grocery shopping with their Muslim American friends to ensure their safe arrival and departure. You’ll hear stories that will make you proud, even when such horrible things were happening. I learned something about being a black sheep after 9/11 too. I learned that even though you may be shrouded in black, you can still be proud.

Pilgrimage

Every year millions of Muslims from around the world make pilgrimage to the land where Muhammad, the final prophet sent to mankind, was born and raised. They make a pilgrimage to an ancient land rich with history. From Africa and Australia, from the Americas and Asia, and from everywhere in between, Muslims join at the house that Abraham and Ishmael made as the first house devoted to the worship of the one God. The pilgrimage, a once in a lifetime retreat to find solace in the desert, is a trip in the footsteps of Abraham and Muhammad. It is a trip that allows us to consider the boy who would sacrifice his own life for God. While everyday may be a small trial and every trial a small step towards righteousness, Ishmael faced the ultimate test. While my life may include making sacrifices, it is nothing compared to the sacrifice Ishmael was prepared to make. And while I’d like to think I could sacrifice all for good, I’m glad God allowed us lamb chops instead.

You know what I'm thinking?

2008-10-31T09:40:00.001-05:00

No, no you don't.

I'm not really going crazy

2008-10-26T20:35:00.002-05:00

I'm just so livid
most of the time
that I cannot
think
or
speak
or
walk
without the hot
putrid smell of
hate protruding from
my
pores.

I'm not really going crazy
I may have already hit rock bottom
because I hate where I shouldn't
and love where it can't

I am NOT
going crazy
but I really
feel like it
right now

I fear
staying
this way for
too long

I fear that it will make me crazier
than I am on a normal day
without the pain in my shoulder

I am NOT really going crazy

I saw a car on fire
at first I wanted to snap a picture,
I've never seen a car on fire before,
but instead I drove away,
stupid new phone without a shortcut to the camera.
Instead, I drove on, I was sure others had
called the authorities, but I was stuck
with the car for a while.
When I passed, I could feel the heat
of the flames inside my car
with the windows up two lanes away.
After passing, I could only think about
what it might mean:
a death
a change in lifestyle.
I felt sad.
I think it was the turning point.
I mean, I cried tonight
despite my desire to hide.
I actually cried
a little
but all I really
wanted to do was
scream and hit and throw things.
I nearly had an anxiety attack,
haven't had a real one in years, almost
since my mother's death.
Though it is never a real
attack, just a feeling
of dispair that
bears down on my
heart.

I'm not crazy.
If I say it enough,
I might believe it.
I'm not crazy.

The Heart of the Matter

2008-10-25T18:11:00.002-05:00

Notice:
high water below
rough terrain ahead
ominous clouds above

Notice:
lone sun ray beaming down
last of the pixie dust shining out
breeze picking up

Notice:
you are not standing alone
you are surrounded by many loves
you are separated by many feet

Notice:
you are not looking outside
you are not overlooking the river
you are beating inside me

depression

2008-10-21T21:41:00.002-05:00

everyday i look at my blog
everyday i want to write something
but i can't
i feel like i can't write
i can't write because i don't feel like it
and i don't feel like it because i have no real feelings
except the feeling of apathy

ramblings in the night

2008-10-12T02:21:00.002-05:00

I watched a movie about a 39 year old teacher who wants to have a baby. It was a decent movie: irony, love, great actors. When it was over, I spoke truths out of my window. I made contradictory statements and declared uncertainties. I laughed at my foolishness and pride. I found fault with my past and flaws in my person. I said all this aloud. I looked at the moon and said it all so she could hear. I spoke to God, I think, but I wanted the moon to hear, for God already knows. I looked out at the moon and realized that in the great grand scheme of things, very little of what I say or feel matters. In the great grand scheme of things, my miniscule problems are nothing. I am nothing to the moon, yet I wanted her to hear my frustrations.

****

My foot started bothering me midday Thursday. I walked on it anyway. I made myself walk three miles on it anyway. I made myself jog on it anyway. Now it's swolen anyway. But just a little anyway. Maybe if I jog more it will heal, at least better than otherwise anyway.

****

going out alone isn't all it's cracked up to be

****

I almost dropped my phone into the river. It fell out of my hand the moment I tried to secure it just as I was beginning to jog on a semi-swollen ankle. It was the same spot where I thought to myself, "Gee, it sure would suck if I dropped my phone here." Just the day before I visualized dropping it.

When it fell, the back detaching itself and the two pieces that are my phone sliding just to the edge, I paused long enough to pick it up and reattach before jogging across, the water lapping loudly below.

2008-10-09T22:49:00.002-05:00

I've figured it out:

we should visit a haunted house or crazy ghost trail!

I know what to do now! I'm gonna scare myself!

I'll get my friends together
we'll pay an outrageous amount of money
to be scared out of our minds
and then eat dinner together.

Sounds blissful to me.

:0

Try the Blues on Backwards

2008-10-08T22:23:00.002-05:00

I wonder
how many people
are waiting
for me to
call
or
text
or
send a package
fed-ex
or
swing by.

and so

2008-10-06T22:53:00.000-05:00

shall i wait
forever
for nothing?

2008-10-06T22:40:00.003-05:00

(not) surprisingly
I am
.....................(secretly)
(not) satisfied
with (your) words
or (my) lack
of
............(sweet)
words -
........(mocking)
the (terrible)
feelings
..............................(knocking)
inside (me and you)
growing
.......................(blindingly)
strong and
................(unmistakingly)
wilting into
...........................................(UNCONCIOUS)
(effortless) hope(ful)

.....(nothings)

travel (completely random...or not)

2008-10-06T22:35:00.004-05:00

v formation
contentment
sunset
glow of moon
among clouds
of purple
and pink

home
and
away

large enough
to get lost
inside
but small
enough to
find the
way

home
and
away

from all
those
people I
wouldn't
sit near
anway
yet regret
the photo
opps for
odd reasons
now that
I am

home
and
away

from everyone
else I
did
enjoy

Eid Mubarak...

2008-10-05T23:36:00.003-05:00

It was here,
that feeling of
joy mixed with
a sense of sadness
at losing the time
and gaining
the experiences.

It was here,
that feeling of
emptiness when
everything is over
and you wish
you hadn't
said it
and you wish
you hadn't
been there
when it happened,
but you were
and you did
and you'll
likely
do it again.

It was here
the idea
that I'd write
something
somewhat
somehow
someway
upbeat and not
anything like
I'm feeling
now but in every
way how I was
feeling when
we chanted
like children
and handed
out balloons
like adults
and smiled
like we meant it
and laughed
like we were pleased
and ate
like we had starved
and cried
like we were devoid of tears.

It was here
that I began
with a greeting
of peace and hope
and blessings
upon our
feast
but
ended
up just venting
those pent
up feelings
of I don't
know what
exactly.

It was here
that I began
to write my
poetry again,
those words
I write to
try to say
what I want
to say
but cannot
say because
I never
intended to say them
at all
since they
are empty
words filled
with feelings
as empty as
the ocean and
as calm as
the tempest
seas and
as meaningless
as scripture.

It was here
that I began to
write, albeit
only a few words
in each line, those
ideas that popped
into my
head and
lingered, even if
for only a moment,
and took over
my being and
function of
fingers and
hand.

It is here
that I have chosen
to write of my
sorrow, even as
I try to write of my
happiness, for who can be
happy without
a hint of sadness
or celebrate
without a piece
of despair in their
heart, however
small.

It is here
that I write my
words that mean
something to me
but nothing
to someone.

It is here I will stop,
the writing,
not the loving
nor the hating
nor the breathing.

***
Other than my little tirade a few days late, my Eid was great. Eid Mubarak to everyone. When I'm feeling less empty, I'll write something more fulfilling. Maybe. :)

All while eating ice cream from the carton

2008-09-20T23:06:00.003-05:00

Why is it that my reflection is upside down on the inside of the spoon, yet rightside up on the back of the spoon? (I couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation...couldn't wrap my mind around it.)

Today I missed the local Race for the Cure. I've gone for the last three years. I am a little sad at missing this one, even if I would have just walked due to fasting. I walked last year and enjoyed it. I should've walked this year, but I didn't. Here's to next year!

L'Chaim! To life! (Watched "Fiddler on the Roof" again--great times!)

How is it that someone like her can get married, yet I'm still single? How can I be so full of myself? Seriously, get over myself.

Sometimes I look at someone else, examine their lives, their actions. Sometimes I see the selfish person they are. When they talk about their "meddling" parents I realize how important it is in our culture to be selfish. When I hear talk about moving away because of parental suffocation, I know it's selfish. When plans are made, hopes are shared, dreams are dreamt and family is the last to know, it's as if selfishness were a virtue. Sacrifice for parents, now that should be a step closer to God. If we can sacrifice for those who made the greatest sacrifices for us, are we not one step closer to knowing and loving the Creator who made our love and secured this bond? I am not there yet, but feel that it is a step in the right direction. With the right intention, the right path can be taken. Maybe. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I've got it all right.

So I convinced a friend to try online dating. The irony. He went out on a date today. Wonder how that worked out. I'm sure I'll hear about it soon. Ah, the irony.

I really wonder if losing your independence is worth falling in love. Who am I kidding? What independence?

If I were to leave, who would be around to help, not that I'm that much help? Who would eat dinner with them? Who would listen? Who would be the glue the keeps it all together?

My brother's shorts, tied tightly around my waist so they won't fall down, are so comfortable the I think I shall never wear my own clothes again. I can imagine a happy life filled with t-shirts and boys' basketball shorts. Ahh...comfort. I mean, I could gain fifty pounds and these shorts would expand with me. I'd never feel fat, cause I'd be wearing amazing boy shorts. Ahh...so this is love.

Why is it called neapolitan ice cream? And why did they decide vanilla was important enough to include in the carton?

Do I like chocolate or strawberry more? Hmm....just one more bite.

*Two gunshots outside my home right now. I hear the gun going off and never really think anything of it. Yesterday I walked to the store down the street. I haven't walked that way in so long. We used to frequent the little trip two blocks down the road when we were younger. Now, our cars drive us where we need to go. As I walked the distance, I heard the gunshot, close. I didn't think it was a gun. I assumed it was a car backfiring just around the bend. It was a gun. What or who they were shooting is unclear to me. If they will get caught or if they were just scaring someone or kids with too much free time, will remain a mystery to me. But being so close to such violence, however unreal it still is in my world, is a little unreal. I almost walked around that fenced off area, but didn't. I almost became a witness. I'm not afraid of being a victim, but don't know what I'd do if I were a witness. A helpless witness. *

Definitely chocolate....no, strawberry. Just another bite? :)

2008-09-18T08:29:00.002-05:00

I'm so exhausted all the time, but I don't really know why. It's definitely not just because I'm fasting. It's definitely just me.

***

I want to write.

I can feel the words
inside
trying to escape
the humanesque
and acheive
divinity.

I want to write.

I see the words
outside
trying to breathe
the cool night's air
and dying
cruelly.

I want to write.

I bury the words
underground
trying to dispose
the contents
and remains
deliberately.

Only to write.

by the way...

2008-09-07T23:14:00.003-05:00

Ramadan Mubarak! :)

I haven't spent time at the Masjid yet this year (which is so unlike me), but I have spent much more time with my family. I know now that it is really my duty. I have made dinner most nights (which was actually fun to do, even after working all day...seriously!), only missing due to back to school night at school last Tuesday (but since they ate my leftover lasagna, it was as if I was there all along). I love my Baba (dad) so much! He's the real reason I make sure to eat at home every chance I get. He's the reason I make dinner and serve coffee and smile and talk each night. It's Ramadan, and if he can't be happy always and with everyone, he'll be happy with me at least this month. At least.

Well, I just wanted to write "Happy Ramadan," but I seemed to have allowed my fingers to run wild on the page. I am sure my writing is not cohesive, but that's okay. I'll leave it this time. I meant what I wrote and felt what I said. And now I'll sleep and pray for a good week, good month, good year, good life. Ameen.

Happy Ramadan! :)

facade

2008-09-07T23:09:00.002-05:00

education
is just a great
excuse
for a
single
daughter

education
has always been
a superb
excuse
for not
wanting
another
person

education
will continue to be
a fantastic
excuse
for not
wearing a
ring of
platinum and
diamonds

education
is my excuse,
and a greatly
used one at
that, for
not having
to deal
with
matrimony

*********

I finish my Master's degree in May, insha'Allah, only to embark on my doctorate. The learning won't stop...and so I'll have a reason to remain single, much to my family's dismay. ;)

2008-07-31T00:50:00.002-05:00

and the world falls open
to reveal a scary core
of all things broken

(only one day until
sunny weather
with scattered
storms and
heartache,
only one day
until the Florida
beach & sweet
solitude and
the sun)

Did I mention
I love,
love,
love
Mr. Darcy?

2008-07-31T00:42:00.002-05:00

we fought
over whose half
of the sole red
popsicle was bigger

we fought
over who sat
shotgun in the
front seat of the
old white car

we fought
over which movie
to watch first

we fought
over who would
get to keep the toy
in the expensive
box of cereal

we fought
over who controls
the tv remote

NOW

we fight
to see who's
more powerful
in strength
and mind

we fight,
whose words
are more vile,
more hurtful,
most unforgiving?

we fight
without love
or mercy or any
sign of
affection

we fight
to see who
can hurt the
most and
cry the
least

we fight
to inflict pain
without reward
pain without
hope pain
within

we fight
though in
reality I cannot
call this unit
(the me
and the you
and the him
and the
others) a 'we'
anymore

I
and
you
and
him
and
the
others
are,
but
'we'
are
not

change of heart

2008-07-12T15:52:00.003-05:00

something about
driving with
the wind
wrapping around
and beating
negativity with
its powerful
gusts from
lands both
near and
far that
makes me
forget who
i am
and makes
me someone
better than
i've ever
been before

there is
something about
staring at
the green
hills that
go on
forever and
the lakes
that ripple
with hope
and gleam
with clarity
that changes
my very
set ways
and stubborn,
wrong ideas

there is
something about
that hour
long drive
twice over
that made
me change
my mind

there must
have been
something too
grand in
that hour;
something that
made me
look at
it all
so differently;
something that
made me
see what
needed to
be done;
something that
made me
look into
the future
and ask,
pray for
children and
a happily
ever after

there is
something about
my car
and my
music and
my mind
and my
state and
my responsibilities

a random
change of
my heart

in my head

2008-07-06T16:07:00.002-05:00

i dislike my brother at the moment
i think that i am not really looking forward to school tomorrow
i want to get out of the house, but I don't feel so great right now
i want to go eat lunch with friends
i can't wait for my vacation to florida
i don't want to think of weddings or family issues
i don't want to do anything right now
i am thinking of running about sunset
i want to go look at bunk beds
i teared up thinking about how my space is limited
i felt like crap when no one missed our presence
i want to change the mood to a more pleasant one
i don't really know how
i don't know what to write if it can't be what it is
i don't like playing games
i hate getting phone calls from random people
i don't appreciate it when people don't call me back
i never want to answer on the first call
i never want the other person to answer on the first call
i hate feeling obliged to do something
i like being useful
i like sitting by the water
i enjoy running in the evenings

i ran into love; it robbed me of desire and inspiration
i ran into love again; it stole my morals and my self preservation
i ran into love a third time; i shoved love off the sidewalk
love was hit by a truck; love survived
love won't bother me again

i called, no one answered
you called; did you think i would answer?
i asked, no one responded
you asked of me; did you think i would respond?
i pleaded, no one helped me
you pleaded my help; did you think i would help you?
well, i did
i answered, i responded, i helped you
why?
because that is the difference between you and me
you only want from others
i only want others

I'm Not Catholic

2008-06-28T01:13:00.004-05:00

So is it really wrong to want to offer confession?

I want to purge my soul of its secrets to a complete stranger who cannot really judge me, or if he does, doesn't really know me.

I want to go to confession, but I am not Catholic.

2008-06-26T00:37:00.002-05:00

Trying to figure out my place
somewhere between this new,
unfamiliar place between the cracks
and the old world with its
responsibility and values
is the hardest thing to
undertake.

I didn't ask for this role,
the role of keeper of
tradition and key
to future hope,
I was only
the first
born.

Unsuccessful in finding the balance.
Unhappy in the current groove.
Unbelieving of the last few words.

Waiting for the response, or lack thereof.
Waiting for a miracle or disaster.
Waiting for an answer from above.

A little birdie told you what?!?!?!?!

2008-06-22T23:39:00.001-05:00

What in the world? I'm so pissed off. Who is saying such things? I already had to deal with this before, not again. Not ever again. Dude, we talked twice. TWICE?!?!?!?! Forget being nice, I'm now going to be so mean, he'll wish he never met me. Seriously.

2008-06-17T23:59:00.005-05:00

Everything I say tends to come back to bite me in the butt.

****

I don't want to talk to him. I don't really want to talk about him to them. I don't. Really, I don't.

****

I graded papers for two hours. TWO and a HALF HOURS really. Or maybe it was really just two. Either way, it was too long.

:/

****

Okay, actually, I'm dying to talk about it. However, since my first statement is true, everything DOES come back to haunt me, then I really don't want to talk about it (so statement #2 is also true). I did really grade papers, maybe because I wouldn't be free to answer the phone (especially since I really hate grading papers ESPECIALLY for a really long time in one sitting). So if I'm dying to talk about it (and laugh about it....and maybe cry about it too) why can't I? Because I'll regret it.

****

Remember that time that I said the guy I was talking to was kinda gay? Remember when she said it too? She married the guy (he wasn't gay). I was 'dumped' by the guy (he wasn't gay; he didn't really 'dump' me). She's (happily?) married. I'm (happily?) single. The guys were kinda gay.

****

So why can't I talk about it? Because.....well, you see.....because if I do, then.....ummm....I guess I can. Maybe I will. But how can I talk about it without coming straight out and blasting him or saying something mean? And who the heck am I supposed to tell who won't ask questions?

****

I need a therapist. (But I don't believe in such BS.) I need...nope, don't really need anything else.
;)

escape

2008-06-15T17:01:00.002-05:00

first, open the window

second, remove the screen

third, climb out

fourth, fall onto the grass

fifth, tell the questioning voices that it's nothing, you're fine

sixth, get up and close the window from the outside

seventh, laugh out loud

eighth, run

ringing in my ears

2008-06-15T16:30:00.001-05:00

When this writing is complete, I will pick up the phone. I can’t really tell my friends. Every time that I do they listen too carefully. They don’t listen to what I want to say but what they think I really want (and maybe I do, I’m not certain about anything). I mean, what do we have in common? A country that I’ve never seen and don’t really know? Religion. It is religion, or so they will tell me. But what if I don’t know where I’m at now? What if I am really not too sure about marriage or relationships? What if I don’t want to start something that I won’t finish? I can’t call my friends and complain because they won’t really listen. I can’t call my friends and tell them because I won’t giggle and be friendly.

When I am done writing this, I’ll just have to call. But I don’t want to. I don’t want to talk about this and I don’t want to write about it and I don’t really want to live this. I don’t know what I want. The truth of everything is that I don’t know what I want and I don’t really believe in all this crap. The basis of everything is that I don’t know who I am and what I want. I am lost.

When I am done writing this, I’ll finally call back. I want to tell my friends that he is desperate. I want to tell them that I can’t even remember what he looked like. I want to say that he is stupid for even trying. Weren’t my mannerisms clear enough? When someone doesn’t answer three times in a row, isn’t that reason enough to stop?

When I am done writing this, I’ll give in and have a stupid awkward conversation with someone I don’t want to talk to or try to impress. I don’t even think communication is possible, but I will try. I don’t like playing games, and this only seems like a game. I don’t like pretending, but it seems like pretending. I feel like my heart is under pressure, like my head is in overload. I don’t know.

When I finish complaining, I’ll call. I will pick up the phone and dial the number. I will spend a few minutes in a conversation I don’t want to have. Maybe I do. I don’t know what I want. I guess I don’t want to be alone.

When I stop typing, I’ll dial the number. Last night I realized that I’m the last of my crew. I truly realized it. I wanted to leave the party, I wanted to sit down instead of dance. I walk away when someone says “Uqbal farhatik” (my translated meaning: hope you get married next) or tries to talk about weddings and engagements. I don’t want to be forty and unmarried. It’s not fun to get old and have no one. I don’t think I want to be twenty-five and married either. It’s not fun to be responsible for others. I don’t know what I want. I miss being able to call up my friends and go out at the drop of a dime. I miss random lunches and being able to go to the movies whenever we wanted.

When I convince myself in writing, I will pick up the phone. Maybe my fear is kids. I expect to have them; I’m not convinced I want them. When they were married, they could still go out. When they had kids, life was over. Not for that reason alone, though it is a good one, I fear kids. When my friends complain of marriage and their husbands (or wives sometimes), I wonder if it really is worth it. When I have to make breakfast, I think “Is it worth it?” When I see them laugh at each other, I think, “Maybe it’s worth it.” When I remember that feeling in my tummy, the butterflies, and the lightheadedness, the dizzy sensation, I know it must be worth it. But when I have to try so hard, I think it is not.

I’m going to call. I don’t want to. I don’t know what I want. I hate this part of everything. I don’t even want to write this. I definitely don’t want to post it. I have written it and I will post it. I have to make it real. I have to legitimize my writing. I have to give my fingers some purpose. I have to smile and pretend. I have to write and be real. Now that I feel drained of all emotion, I will call. What do I have to lose?

I am calling.

Two things worth mentioning

2008-06-08T23:17:00.004-05:00

1. For about half an hour on Thursday night, it was like old times. We laughed at each other, at ourselves. We joked. We compared colors, hair. We joked. For about half an hour, we were young again and whole again and safe again. For about half an hour, we were they way we should've been always. For about half an hour, our smiles were sincere, unreserved. Yet even in that short amount of time, you could tell that there was something behind the smiles. We all knew that it wouldn't always be this way, and that it likely wouldn't be this way again anytime soon. We all knew it and laughed and smiled, enjoying the moment even further.

For half an hour on Thursday night, I had my family again. For half an hour, I loved my brothers once more. For half an hour, the past didn't matter and the future was no bother. For half an hour, we all smiled at the same time. For thirty minutes, happiness filled the house.

For half an hour on Thursday night, I sat on Adam's bed, I laughed at Ali's jokes, and I giggled at Abdullah's mannerisms. I almost forgot the past and cared not about the future. I almost felt completely at ease.

2. I lied to my friend today. I didn't really lie, but I didn't really tell her the truth. She asked a question and I don't really like the answer, so I didn't tell her everything. I can't. I have fought the truth with my mind and body. I actually use all my strength to do what's right. Every ounce of energy I can, I put into fighting it off. I think I'm finally winning, but I can't tell that to my friend.

Kamlah is...

2008-06-08T11:17:00.002-05:00

confused.

. No, not confused.

unsure.

. Maybe, maybe not.

oblivious.

. I don't think I can really say that I am oblivious.

hurt.

. Well, not really.

damaged.

. One could definitely say so.

upset.

. Not really upset, per se, but not truly contented by a lot of things.

sad.

. Actually, I am not sad. I am not ecstatic, but I am not sad.

alive.

. Can't argue with that one.

hot.

. Both senses of the word. :)

lazy.

. Nothing like typing on my laptop while lying in bed to prove this one.

going running.

. Will continue this later.

Ropes Course Facilitator Training 2008

2008-06-04T23:37:00.003-05:00

I climbed up the pole the first day. I shimmied across the tight rope, keeping my balance with the other belay cable. I stood on the platform, albeit with shaking knees, and flew down the zipline with a short release of energy in the form of a scream. On the first day, I trusted my belay team. On that first day, I surpassed my own expectation. The first day made me proud, though I was still a little scared.

I climbed up the pole on the second day. I tried to set up the dynamic pulley. I tried, but I let myself come down after reaching the other log. I didn't push myself. I was not happy with myself, but I didn't go on. On the second day, fear won. On the second day, when I had to trust only myself and my equipment, I couldn't do it.

I climbed up the pole on the third day. I actually climbed the pole without a belay team. I climbed the pole and maneuvered my way onto the platform (the hardest part actually). I walked across the bridge with strong confidence in my steps ("It's like being on the ground," I told myself over and over before climbing). On the third day, I was fully confident in my body and my equipment. I surprised myself. I never knew my body was that strong. I was able to climb onto that platform holding myself up with my body parts in awkward positions: one leg sideways, one hand gripping whatever it could, my body twisting unusually. On the third day I truly pushed myself to set up that zip line. On the third day, I trusted myself and I won.

I was able to look down. I was able to talk to the person on the platform and the people on the ground. I could look down without fear. I could suspend myself with my quick lock carabiner grip and let go of both hands to secure the pulley. I could climb and set up. I could swing and rest and talk and laugh and look.

After three days on the course, I now feel more confident. My philosophy on pain (and dentists in particular) seems to work for heights as well: I won't remember the pain (or the fear) tomorrow, so don't worry about it now or ever.

I can't really remember all the feelings I had when I reached the top of the pole, but I know that pride is an amazing feeling and fear can be managed. I know that enjoying a moment is more fun the fearing it. I know that climbing is something I just might want to pick up.

Bitter

2008-06-04T23:30:00.002-05:00

Thirty five feet off the ground,
feet dangling,
adreneline pumping,
heart pounding,
it doesn't really matter.

Thirty five feet off the ground,
wind blowing,
pole shaking,
carabiners locking,
it doesn't seem to be an issue.

Thirty five feet off the ground,
leg muscles working,
arm muscles hurting,
mental muscles racing,
it doesn't really bother me any more.

Say "professional" to me,
or simply in my presence again,
then I'll have to hit you.

2008-06-01T02:23:00.001-05:00

Awake
Because I don’t believe in love
Or happy endings
Or prince charming

Awake
Because I secretly hope for the
Pot of gold
At the end of the rainbow

Awake
Because I am fighting the feeling
Inside of me
Of despair and longing

Awake
Because I know what is wrong
And why I feel it
And what to do about it

Awake
Because I am afraid of what I
Should do and what
I will and won’t

Awake
Because I can’t believe in it
And hate that it is
Not for me

Awake
Because I want but
I don’t know
What it is exactly

Awake
Because I cannot sleep
For it will erase
For it will soothe

Awake
Because I don’t believe
In love
In hope

Awake
Because I know what will come
In my dreams
In the fantasy

Awake
Because then I can fight the phantom
With my reason
With my hands

Awake
Because I can’t stop thinking
About everything I
Choose to ignore

Awake
Because I don’t believe
In love
In happiness

Awake
Because I have to keep
Convincing myself
Telling myself

Awake
Because I’m still cold
And alone
And tearless

Awake
Because I’m dead on the inside
But not yet dead
On the outside

Awake
Because my heart keeps beating
And my brain
Keeps deleting

Awake
Because I cannot leave
My room, my head
My life

Awake
Because I know what I want to do
To see
To be

Awake
Because I know nothing
About life
About love

Awake
Because I am scared
Of falling
Of hoping

Awake
Because I am a girl
In a predicament
In a story

Awake
Because I cannot sleep
In this body
In this world

Awake
Because I do not believe
In love
In hope

Awake
Because I do not believe
In you
In me

Awake
Because I do believe
In darkness
In light

Awake
Because I cannot sleep
And dream
And pray

Awake
Because I can see
The end
And I don’t like it

Awake
Because if I sleep
I’ll just have to
Wake up anyway

Awake
Because I want
To love him
But hate him

Awake
Because I want to dream
But know what
Life really is

Awake
Because I don’t know
How to love
How to care

Awake
Because I cannot cry
And it would be
Better to die

Awake
Because I cannot feel
Inside and I wonder
If I ever did

Awake
Because my eyes keep
Looking inward and
Fear what they see

Awake
Because I am empty
And the echo
Is loud

Awake
Because the warmth of
Fingertips nearly
Revived me

Awake
Because I lie
And know
Only lies

Awake
Because of everything
He said
He did

Awake
Because of everything
She never said
She never did

Awake
Because my eyes
Won’t close
Tightly

Awake
Because I’d rather
Go out during
Daylight

Awake
Because I’m scared
And won’t
Admit it

how does one say

2008-05-31T09:59:00.001-05:00

i don't FREAKIN care

(annoyed...i'm just annoyed)

my dedication

2008-05-25T02:17:00.002-05:00

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

2008-05-21T23:42:00.002-05:00

He's in my house.

"Why is he here?"

He's down the hall.

"What did he do this time?"

He's asleep on his bed.

I feel like the cork on this bottle is about to explode. I'm hiding any and all emotion; I feel like an icy witch (maybe bitch, really). I don't really know what to think about that. I don't really know what to feel. I almost felt overwhelmed by emotion. I almost let myself cry; I nearly smiled. Instead, I hid it all away under the thick layer of skin and pretended it's all the same and no big deal. I'll not care for a while; he just might leave again. If I attach, I'll hurt. Instead, I'll pretend.

BUT HE'S HERE...and I don't know what to do.

Insomnia (I'm just tired!)

2008-05-20T23:47:00.003-05:00

Creak. Creak. Creeeeeeaaaaaak.
the fan in
my small, four walled room
of red paint and books read

Hum. Hum. Hummmmmmmmm.
the refrigerator in
the long, narrow kitchen
of wooden drawers and drawings posted

Thump, Thump. Thump, Thump.
the heart in
my lonely, hollow chest
of hopes & dreams and dreaming lies

2008-05-20T23:43:00.002-05:00

I cut all my hair off today. I donated it to locks of love. I cut it all off. It's cute short, but it'll definitely take some getting used to.

*****

It kinda sucks being the sister of the groom. Not nearly as much fun as being the friend of the bride. I am totally annoyed and sick of....well, school and party stuff and everything in general. I'll get over it, but it sucks now.

*****

My senior English class gets to watch V for Vendetta for another two days or so. YAY! It's a great movie that goes with our theme: utopia/dystopia. I look forward to that class everyday now! ;) YAY!

أسماء المنور : يا غالية مبروك

2008-05-19T23:49:00.001-05:00

Libyan song, Morroccan singer. Yeah, it rocks!

2008-05-15T22:58:00.004-05:00

I miss writing.

What needs recording? My thoughts? My emotions? My actions?

I think about too many things at once. I think my mind is too full of crap. I think of people. I think of events. I think of what I want to do. I think of what I did. I think of what I didn't do. I think of the hims in my life. I think about the girls. I think about writing (though I rarely make time to do it). I think about the deep blue ocean (though I have yet to see it). I think about the green, green grass (though I have yet to feel it beneath my toes this season). I think about you (yeah, you). I think about me (okay, I think about me a lot). I think of random thoughts. I think therefore my brain works. I think therefore I am...weird.

I feel like shooting myself when kids don't know how to read the freaking handout I gave them. I feel lonely. I felt happiness when telling her about school and my "kids." I feel desperation creeping up through every pore; school should be over already. I feel like yelling and crying and running around with a jump rope (all at the same time?). I feel like kissing and telling. I feel like dancing (always do). I feel like running ten laps around the gym. I feel like completing another 5k. I feel like hugging and laughing. I feel like throwing the ball as hard as I can. I feel like skipping in the hallway and pushing hair off foreheads. I feel like gazing at the stars (so like eyes they capture souls). I feel like my heart just might burst with packing beans. I feel like laughing at such a crazy visual. I feel like holding hands and silence. I feel like love. I feel hate. I feel therefore I hurt. I feel therefore I forget and turn away.

I ran 5k. I listened to music. I threw the balls. I hit him back. I laughed inside. I dreamt in black and white with a sprinkle of color. I chat. I spat (not really). I fat (doesn't really make sense). I rocked the scene with blue eyeshadow. I cracked up the spot with hot pink lipstick. I walked. I ran. I sang in my head. I cried (yeah, right). I grazed the hand of time with the feather on the back of my cap (Yankee Doodle style). I rocked the tie dye. I worked the event. I made money. I want more. I'll get what I can and forget the rest of the world.

I think...I feel.....I did....

*nothing

you should know

2008-05-07T00:44:00.002-05:00

1. I procrastinate as if there are no time limits.
2. Although I don't let it run me over, I tend to be a jealous person. Not envious (heavens no), but jealous in a weird way. I am jealous when it comes to my friends. I don't need to explain now.
3. I have a real weakness for Lindt white chocolate truffles. YUM!
4. The small of my back is the perfect place to rest his (whose?) hand.
5. I love freckles and wish I had more prominent freckles.
6. I am always exhausted.
7. I truly love making lists.