10/20/2010

assalamu alaikum,

fun gregorian date, today.

So I've been seeing people flashing purple on facecrack and tw.itter to protest the suicides due to bullying of gay teenagers. There have been meetings, support groups on campus for graduate students to talk about homophobia.

t'tell the truth, I'm sure of what I think. What I'm not sure of is where I can say that, except here.

First off, hate has no place in my heart. Where I find it, I do my best to work on it and pull it out. And as with most negativity, if I'm pointing one finger at someone else, I've got 3 coming right back at me.

I think that bullying is wrong, no matter who or where it's done. And I think Noah's Dad has a lot of good ideas on how to face both bullies and victims, by the way.

Gay marriage, 'don't ask, don't tell', and suicides by various kids because they're gay bring homosexuality to mind a lot.

Honestly? I don't think homosexuality should be a topic. So if homosexuality is a reason we're letting kids be bullied, keeping people from setting up house legally with whomever they please, and keeping people who want to serve out of our armed forces, that reason is invalid. Sexuality of any type is healthily only one of many important facets of identity and life.

That's NOT the same thing as saying that I think it's right. Is it right for two men to be spouses? Nope. Should they be able to do so if they want? YES. That's their free choice to do so. I don't think it's prudent. I don't think it falls under the rules and religion I follow with my life. But you know what? I don't think it's right that men and women live together without being married, either; we don't stop them with a law or anything else. People should be able to make and follow through with their own choices. I'm even more hands-off when it comes to sexuality; the parties involved aren't affecting bringing anyone into the act but themselves; they're adults and agreeing and consenting; what they do is NONE of my BUSINESS. And you could probably substitute a lot of concepts with sexuality there.

I think that homosexuality in itself is NOT a reason to withdraw or refuse to love or talk to or treat or work with or smile at or be polite to or live around any person. We used to say it so simply when I was a kid: 'Don't hate the player, hate the game.' So many of us forget that. We are called to love for each other what we love for ourselves; and if they don't love these things for themselves... what? lakum deenukum wa liya deen! To you be your Path, to me mine.

And no use asking if, on their part, gay people will stand up for polygyny or the rights of Muslims to have prayer time at work or to cover properly. No use, because it isn't about reciprocity; it's about being able to inspect and respect myself and what's around me, and still sleep at night.

So no, I didn't wear or show purple today; and yes, it's because I live this out day after day.


_________

Today was the televised debate for my congressional district. Let's just say I want the incumbent to stay in. Last election he beat a congressman who I'd loathed for every one of the 14 years he represented Conservopolis. The old guy wants back in. We're in a conservative area, and he's conservative, so he might actually win (retch). If I were being true to my inclinations I'd go and give the new guy a hand; but 18 credits demand all of my time. Yeah.


And now.
Can I just say I HATE the new Law and Order?! I never watch TV, and now I know why! Did they just put the most unoriginal hater story on the new LA show this week? Why did they just get a child to get in a fictional court and say that she had to obey a man? And have her lie for him? And say that as a conservative muslim she had to obey a man she wasn't even married to?!

I will never watch that show again. I'm so tired of people trying to put an image on my deen that doesn't belong. Really.

Please say a prayer for me; tomorrow is the second of two serious tests in two days, and we have two half-hour presentations next week. And I need to resolve a tax situation with Conservopolis AGAIN (apparently it didn't reach the records the first time). Just... patience. I need some renewed supplies of patience and perseverance. InshaAllah I'll get back to the tests and presentations later.

peace
twennytwo

Stuck in the middle with you

assalamu alaikum,

I'm stuck.

I've always known, even before my parents wished me to, that I don't have to do anything I don't want to do.

The problem comes when there is something I DO want to do, that perhaps I shouldn't. Even if the harm will come only to me. Like, traveling (hello, I'm an adult!) on my own. And I want to. And I know it'll be okay. But it might not be. Ah, the vagaries of adulthood.

InshaAllah I'm headed to Chicago for the Independence Day holiday. I have not eaten anything with added sugar in it since June 13th. I'll have to tell you all about that later; suffice it to say now that on the 4th I'll be celebrating with some sugar! (The rule is: no added sugar unless it's a holiday or the 13th of July.)

Hope you're all doing really well.

love
twenny

Home

assalamu alaikum,

Eid Sa'eed! Eid Mubarak!

To tell the truth, I didn't do much for Eid. The holiday isn't as fascinating and fun for me this year; probably because I don't have the little kids to pull me into the enthusiasm. I wasn't at home either; my parents left for the weekend, so I came to my sister's house.

Last night I fell asleep on her couch; we'd had visitors earlier so I was wearing my hijab and had a big chador nearby, which I pulled over myself sometime in the night. The temperature on that floor of the house dropped to 65 degrees. (The thermostat was set higher, but that floor never reaches that temperature close to the ground, where I fell asleep.)
So when I awoke, I was cold, cranky, and stiff. My knees screamed in pain when I stretched them out. My feet and toes were icy. I was mad for a good minute.

Then I thought about that.

Y'all, I cannot imagine being homeless at this time of year. If it was 65 where I was sleeping, it was 30 degrees outside. Ya Rahman.

My sister and I just had a conversation about it. She said, "well, they have newspapers. They find a way to get through."

Seriously? SERIOUSLY!? Newspapers? At below freezing? How do you sleep? How do you keep up the will to live?

I don't remember there being many homeless in Puerto Rico, in part because of the nice climate. It can feel chilly at night because the temp drops 10-25 degrees from the daytime highs (so from a high of 90, if it got down to 72 you felt it), but I know there were people who slept on the beach, or on the streets. But for the most part, I never saw people without homes. They always had family, or friends, or just a nice person with a place to sleep. I'm sure the homeless problem exists there as any other place in the world; it wasn't as visible and is never as acute. There, the problem would be obtaining food, but not exposure.

There isn't the same kind of backup here, where people need it. It makes me wonder what is there. And I'd better be careful, because that's the first step to action.



Heh. And another conversation we had made me think about the difference between the concept of home and family as we get older.

Y'all know I spent some time in Puerto Rico right after I graduated college, and it changed my life. I want to get my nursing degree in part so I can go back to the island and know that I'll get a job- the VA always needs nurses, and that's a FEDERAL bureau that won't go broke- and live there. Yes, in Puerto Rico. (Don't get me started on the husband options there. That isn't a part of my plan. Allah is the point for that particular project.)

Lo these many years later, I still have friends from the islands calling me; their families ask about me. And this points to a major difference in families between there and here. Mainly, that as in most parts of the world, in Puerto Rico multigenerational families are a matter of course. I mean, I did have single friends who had their own rooms or apartments, but they were a rarity, and most of them lived in the same city or region as their parents, grandparents, etc.

I remember during Hurricane Jeanne going to Humacao with my then-roomate to visit her mom and grandmother; it was beautiful, wild country, and the whole family gathered to eat from the grill, since the electricity and gas were off. Beautiful.
So I knew when I came back that I definitely like that idea of multigenerational life, and that I don't mind living that way. Add to that, that I found that Islam supports parents and family life, and I could see myself eventually living that way forever.

My parents and sibs don't agree.

My sister made the remark during conversation that, "Our father exists so that we will leave the house. I cannot live in the same house as he does!" And that's true; I remember her saying when she bought her house that she could not live with our father. And then she said that the reason I could was probably because we don't talk much. And that's true as well. If I don't have something to say, then I... don't have anything to say, beyond courtesy. So yes, I guess that works. On the other hand, I know that my parents would prefer me to live on my own (but aren't going to pay for me to do so, which is why I live at home just now).

And I don't want to live on my own ever again. Been there, done that, hated the goody bag. Don't want to live with strangers, either. And I'm lucky in that I don't have to; my parents tolerate my living with them. Sometimes there's not much between toleration and enjoyment, and sometimes there's a gulf of understanding between the two.

I've had men who were wife-searching ask me, 'Would you mind if we lived with my parents? Or if my parents lived with us?' and the whole question blew my mind, because the LAST thing my parents would ever WANT to do is to live with my household, or one of my siblings'. This is clear in my mind. And I welcome the idea that they would do so. The difference in our attitudes is one I accept, but it makes me sad.

What do you think?


peace
twennytwo

Twenny Ate

assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuhu,

I remember on D's last b-day I called and was teasing unmercifully about reaching 28. Teasing based on a faulty premise that I don't subscribe to; mainly that getting older is a bad thing. I have seen enough death and personal tragedy to understand that birthdays are blessings, every single one. They don't have the guarantee that death and entropy do.

Ah, and now it's my turn to reflect on 27.

The other day I was in Rochester, NY for my friend Nene's wedding, which was beautiful, and a lot of fun. I think because I was in a crowd of Black and Latino folk (she's black, he's portareecan) I thought back to my college days. I wouldn't take nothing for my journey, but I still feel the love of the people and culture I met during those days.

My work this year wore me down, but I learned a lot of lessons, mainly that I need to do what I want to do when I want it, based on my own values. You'd think that a 27 year old woman would get that, but ah, the lesson needs drilling. Apparently. I love the children, am grateful to be working with little muslims, but now I know that this is my hatching ground, and that I'm due to fly from it sooner rather than later.

I learned that my body? Is mashaAllah amazing. I finished a half-marathon. I finished slowly. But I finished. I also learned that diabetes is stalking me regardless of all that training... and I'm taking care of myself more. I learned that food isn't my best friend, since I already knew it wasn't my enemy.

I learned that I'm a pig for some love. Family, students, friends- I need affection in doses that others would find smothering. I'm learning to be okay with that.

I remembered skills and joys I had forgotten. I think I'm going to get sick of my gauchos after a while, but the satisfaction of making them with my own hands was wonderful. I can still make killer salted oatmeal cookies, even if I have to eat one and give the rest away. And nothing will ever compare to a long drive in the country and woods at the end of a warm day.

I finally realised that even though I am a child of an age of entitlement, I can make my own dreams come true best when I am serving others. I am happy when I learn that a small advice I lent helped another sister find happiness and some self-reflection. I need to lean on other shoulders. I need to be needed.

Procrastination might be natural, but Allah swt has given us all tools to work against the worst of our natures- and with the best of it. Still up to me to grasp the tools and get to work, though. And now I know that organization isn't just a luxury, but for me it's something worth the battles with myself. I realised that to love the examples in my deen and to increase my iman and to love the nabi I follow is not shameful, but it's okay.

Companionship, true companionship, is something I pray for; thank God for my friends, the true-blue homies, the ones who are in the mud and the glory with me.

Twenty-seven is a wrap. Alhamdulillah, let the games of twenny eight begin.

fimanillah
Twenny Two

New Rules!

Assalamu Alaikum,

Yes, new rules, ala Bill Mahr, even though I haven't watched him in YEARS.


10: IF you are driving, you must pay attention to the road. There is no makeup exemption to this rule. This rule applies double during inclement weather.

9: If you hit someone, you must call the police. Failing to hit and run does not exempt you.

8: IF you do not have insurance, do not give an insurance information card that is 3 years old.

7: Your boyfriend cannot call the person YOU hit to intimidate them out of going to the doctor.

6: All people who are represented on household insurance must be spouses.

5: You may not call the person you hit and ask for their insurance information in order to pay the damages.

4: Yellow lights do not mean GO.

3: Never ASSUME anything.

2: Not having your wipers on is ILLEGAL in the rain.

1. RED MEANS STOP.



Anyone want to guess what happened to me yesterday? Alhamdulillah I'm fine; have whiplash, but treatable. The Pimp Car (tm) is also fine, alhamdulillah. But it was a real waste of a Wednesday.


peace
TwennyTwo

Music

Assalamu Alaikum,
'Deen Tight' trailer-ht to MuslimahLocs for the link.

So I've been thinking about the music thing. First, I went to visit UmmLayth (yes, she of TheMuslimah.com, may Allah bless her); as it turns out, she doesn't live that far from Conservopolis. Since I'd left my laptop at her house I went to retrieve it and stayed the night. It was so good to see her!
We got to talking about many different things, and music was one of them. Alhamdulillah I'm not going to talk about her house here, except to say that she doesn't have a television, and the stereos I saw were not on once. Ya'll say mashaAllah.

She asked me if I listened to music... and then added that she doesn't judge on it. I guess she understood the look on my face.

See, whenever the subject of music and Islam, and living with or without it comes up, I feel pushed. I'd already converted when one of the sisters in MSA, I think she was a vp at the time, made some remark about how a certain person was so extreme, that they put all the pictures in the house face-down, and 'didn't even listen to music!'. And I immediately asked her, "Wait- music isn't allowed in Islam?" She refused to answer, and quickly changed the subject.

So even then I understood this to be something that involved a definite difference of opinions.

Fast forward a couple years, past the MSA East Zone convention where I started wearing hijab, to living in Puerto Rico. By then I was in full immersion mode, and riding in the car with my friend Abeer.

I love Abeer for many reasons, not least of which is that during one lonely Ramadhan after learning that I was fasting by myself, she piled her kids into her rusty blue'89 Chevy wagon, came to my house and bullied me into the car, and did not leave me alone henceforth. I truly believe she not only saved my sanity, but she maintained my link to Islam. This was shortly before I got my first laptop and started this blog.

Anyway, so we were winding through the streets of Guayama, and Abeer asked me:" Pues, cuando mueres, quieres musica, o quieres Qur'an?"- did I want music, or Qur'an playing at my funeral? I forget what brought that on, I think maybe someone famous had died in PR recently.
"Qur'an," I replied firmly.
My brainwashing was nearly complete.

Something brought me back from the brink, though.

It's because of the extremity of actively avoiding music. Not only is it everywhere, but I operated for the longest in a world that moved to its direction. And, I can't see evil just in the existence of melody and harmony. I'm sorry- the Qur'an has too much of those beautiful sisters for me to dislike them for their own sake.

I fully understand the reasons for the dislike of music, really. It takes away from study of Qur'an, it occupies the mind with other things- and certain of these things can be undesirable. There's a hadith involved.

But I also know that I've been brought closer to understanding how to love Rasulullah (saws) and his example through music. Native Deen, Sami Yusuf, and Outlandish have all inspired me to learn more about certain hadiths and ayahs. I still feel the transcendance when music and a deft lyric can say more than all the speeches anyone could write.

And beyond that? As they said in the video, this is something that my mother does, that my grandmother did, that her father did. I know the songs used to tune the hoes in the fields. I know the weariness on my mother's shoulders by the tune she chooses while she scrubs a dish. I can tell you what grade I was in when given hip-hop tunes came out, and who was my friend, and who was my teacher, and what happened to make I was taught as a child that music was something we used to praise God. What do you mean, God doesn't like it? This hit me about as much as not wearing shoes inside peoples' houses- my father insisted that we wear shoes inside the house if we were awake. It's that kind of training. I'm a classically trained musician, and my siblings have won gold medals in performance. How do I turn away? I just don't see first that it's wrong, and second, how to fight it.

I do know that the way forward is through strengthening faith. The more I memorize Qur'an, the more I want to learn more, the less time I do spend with music. I do miss composing though, and spoken word. So that's the part of hip-hop I feel connected to. As it is, I rarely listen to music unless I'm working out.

Gotta go- just one more point. As part of the Practimate training, we're invited to express our opinions on marriage and potential partners in a variety of ways. One brother expressed his disdain for a sister who- among other things- listened to music. I really wonder how many of these brothers listen to absolutely no music (I mean, no anasheed? Sami Yusuf but without strings? What?) and how to portray the fact that I'm okay with filtered music right now, though inshaAllah I'm definitely open to decreasing my usage. How intolerant are we as an ummah to something where there is a known difference of opinion?

Okay, I'm off my soapbox. Salaamu Alaikum.

peace
TwennyTwo

My Fairy Tales

Assalamu Alaikum,


Most of my friends- I mean, a good deal- are married (or coupled and nearly married up... lookin' at you, Meke). And all of the women will tell you that the first thing I ask about is how they got together. I call those stories my 'fairy tales'- even if they're no happily ever after story, they're always good for a sigh and a smile.

The story of Michelle Obama is no exception:


My friend A. has warned me, 'Don't go talking about this to everyone! This is private!' And I took her nasiha at first, because she was right in that not all ears are attached to those who are looking out for my best interest. But at the same time, it's just hard for me NOT to talk about the things that interest me; so when you're around me you hear about preschool learning activities, microbiology and midwifery, and marriage. And alhamdulillah, I think that especially in this cuture, in the US, the pot that squeals gets poured. If I don't put it out there that I love my students, that nursing and the whole process of birth interest me, and that I want to get married, how will opportunities make themselves known?

Today at halaqa we talked about Hasad, and jealousy, and the evil eye, and how nothing that happens to us happens, except by permission and will of Allah. And that just as we are working within time with our tools of free will, good deeds, and dua'a to ask Allah to give us good, we can't understand just how fully Allah is outside of time, and created free will, and wants us to ask for what he already gave. It was deep.

And since I was sitting close to Bro. Leader, I looked down at my behennaed hands while he talked. I've found that the American respect of looking people in the eye when they're talking doesn't always translate well into intimate Islamic study circles... and when I looked up, Farhan was sitting across from me. I was startled. And got flustered... could this be the beginning of my own fairy tale? I gazed at my hands again, and made dua'a that Allah's will be made clear. When I looked up again, Farhan was gone. And Bro. Leader had returned to the topic of the goodness of Allah's rizq, in that he has written not only what he willed, but what we ask for.

peace
TwennyTwo

Against pity parties

Assalamu Alaikum,

(There's a plea for your help for a certain group at the bottom of this entry- scroll down if you want your ajr the quick way.)

For reasons I don't care to remember, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself yesterday. I mean, I had the blues, those weepy whiny unshakeable doldrums. Not a happy place, you know?


Then, I talked to my mama. Still blue.

Then, I ate some food. Still blue.

Then I missed juma'a. Now REALLY blue (I forgot they changed the time since the last time I could go. Boo, hiss, daylight saving time!).

So I asked myself, when it is that I feel at my best- and the answer is when I'm helping someone else's need. There's really nothing that feels better than that, sometimes. Maybe that's something that Allah put in all of us- or maybe He requires us to give Zakah in order to make sure that we feel it once in a while. Wa Allahu Alim.

And then I started thinking that I needed to be actively thinking about other people. So I went ahead and made dhuhr and asr and made dua'a for some other people I know who really need adiyat to Allah. I mean, wow. I had the blues about some pretty insignificant stuff, compared to the worry they're facing.

Then, I got dressed and put on a little lip gloss (I was ACTIVELY kicking out the pity party, I needed some glimmer), and I went to Conservopolis's rally for Gaza. Again, just making dua'a for the people of Gaza while I was driving. If you've been on my FB, you know how I feel about the situation.
In order to get to the rally site I had to park my car at the masjid, and then walk, alone, for about 10 minutes. That was amazing, that walk. It was right after maghrib, the sky was amazing colors, but the street was dark enough to encourage thought. I'd forgotten about how crucial physical exercise can be. I got a chance to think things out.

We all stood on the corner with lights. I saw to my pleasure some unexpected friends there, from MAS. And some of my students, to hold my hand. We all said Surah al Fatiha, those of us who knew it, and then walked down the street, silently, with lights, to the masjid.

I was really feeling better at that point.

Anyway, I ended the day at MAS's Friday Social, and had a great time laughing with the women there, some excellent people. I really cut up, making people laugh. And to put a cherry on the great end to a horrible day, UmFarhan and Marya showed up (they said at the rally they'd probably be going home). And I went to sleep with that sense of release that only serious laughter in seriously good company can bring.

That day, with it's relatively light horrible beginning, had an excellent ending alHamdulillah. If I hadn't gone through that, I don't think I'd've been able to post about it, and so I wouldn't have posted below. SubhanAllah.

After I woke, I read this entry. Last week pretty much everyone in the country heard about the massacre in Southern California, where an ex-husband of a daughter at her parent's party on Dec. 24th dressed in a Santa suit and opened fire on the party. He later set the house on fire. Sylvia Ortega was killed as were eight of her relatives. As a result of that night, thirteen children were left totally orphaned, and two others lost one parent.

Remember that our prophet, my Allah bless him and give him peace, was an orphan. Imagine one of your children orphaned. Please give what you can. And if you absolutely cannot give (are you positive? Do you know the rewards of giving to orphans?), then please make dua'a for this family, the families of those lost and injured and under duress in Gaza, the West Bank, and Isra'il.

fimanillah (with faith in God),
TwennyTwo

October 31st Excitement

Assalamu Alaikum,

My students are going on a field trip today, and then returning to the school later tonight for the annual October 31st Game Night. Their parents have been hyping them up for both (which is in the Official Job Description of a parent so I'm not bad), and I'm looking forward to the trip. I love my little ones, and this year as with last I have some joyful as well as challenging personalities, it'll be fun to see them enjoy (or just encounter) a different environment.

Now, I have no problems with Game Night being every year on the same night, even the night that it is. I do have problems with the *ahem* fitna that comes with this particular day, every year. As a teacher, I stand with and actively promote the school policy, which is that there is no celebration of any non-Muslim holiday in the school, and the only Muslim holidays are the two Eids. Anything else we take a break for is federally mandated (e.g. the reason for Thanksgiving and winter breaks). And I truly feel that, even at the age I teach, this is the best thing for my classroom. All the children are happier for it, and no one is left out.

That says, I've had to be really resolved to not condemn the celebration of other holidays, either. I don't want feelngs hurt that way, either, since several of my students have a non-muslim parent or live in families that have more relaxed views of holidays. I ran into this with the celebration of the Prophet's birthday. And um, yeah, I was like- that's not Eid! My assistant at the time had to remind me that, um, some people will try to hurt you if you tell that to their kids! Ohhhh-kay. So the line was that, we don't celebrate birthdays at school- at all. And the children understood that, even if the parents didn't.

I'm not a parent so the issue is pretty much moot on a personal note. I personally will not celebrate it with my children, I don't think. (note the cya I don't think because I have no idear if/who I will marry, that one is still up to Allah.) I'm not exercised about it; I'm just opting to follow what I've been taught of the sunnah and not participating. A family gathering on that day is okay with me, as is Game Night- do something with people of like mind, y'know?

I feel the same way about the elections coming up. I volunteered a while ago to work in Spanish with a certain candidate. I think it was because I temporarily lost my mind. I'm just refusing to get all exercised about it. I will try to meet up with them since I said I would... but if it continues to be a problem I won't be mad. I know I'm going to VOTE but I'm not screaming about my choice of candidate. And I'm certainly not telling the world who my choice is- that's no one's business but my own. That viewpoint I caught (heh, like a cold) from my parents, who have probably been for a certain party since before I was born. Do you know I have never heard them (I mean EVER) identify with any party? I don't know half of their views because we just don't discuss it. My mother put the point on it the other day: "I remember when we were still fighting to vote. Nobody needs to know what I think either way." One of my colleagues was shocked when she straight asked me, "Are you voting Obama?" and I said it wasn't something I talked about. I must've grown two heads, y'all. I know some people feel they can't vote at all Islamically, and that's bunk too. There's no hadith that says we can't exert our influence to say who will be our leaders- ESPECIALLY since we don't live under a khalifa. (Yes, I just lit that firecracker.)

So yes, I'm excited about today, and yes I'm excited about the vote, but you won't catch me screaming about it. Who'd'a thunk it?

peace
TwennyTwo

I hate girls.

assalamu alaikum,

So, Native Deen had a concert here in Conservopolis. I've had several chances to see them in concert, and while the concerts are enjoyable, they don't like knock me out blow me over, or anything like that. More, things for introspections (like the slow songs 'Life Worth' and 'Zabaluni') or the MuslimPower-type songs ( M-U-S-L-I-M and Niyya). Don't quote me on the titles of those songs. I'm slightly ashamed to admit I"m something of a fair-weather fan, especially since I have no more CD player and an IPod is way out of my reach. They're good, clean fun. At the last MYNA camp I got to meet Br. Joshua. Dude is intense. I loved the music they made at the raps workshop though, so inshaAllah I'll be doing that this summer.

This particular concert was part of a MAS regional conference. I declare, my life is a regular social calendar these days. I don't go one weekend without doing something these days. You know you've arrived when you walk into a room and your name rings out of the hush. Alhamdulillah my students find something in me to love. I feel better, too Alhamdulillah. I guess I may really have to relocate in the next decade or so to an island. Someplace winter never goes.
Anyway. The music is so infectious that kids were dancing in the aisles. Quite a few of my little students were having a good time. Wiggling their little bodies. Grabbing hands with their friends and twirling in circles.

Then I saw four girls grab hands. Two of them let go. Pushed the last girl out and kept dancing and twirling. Wouldn't let her back in when she tried to grip into the circle.

They're all of four years old.

I hate girls, I really do sometimes.

peace
TwennyTwo

Oh. Get somebody else to do it. (warning, ramble ahead)

Assalamu ALaikum,

I want a teaching license. But not badly enough to go through the rigamarole it takes to get one. Apparently.

I'm so sick of the Universidad del Sagrado Heart. My problem is really that they're operating Portareeco style. I should be used to this, but I guess two years away from the island mean I'm again sensitive to and agitated by the way people use and abuse time there. See, I did many of my teaching credits there. In order to get a teaching license, I have to prove that I have a certain number of credits of a certain type in education (thanks a whole bunch, NCLB, you continual pain in my ...ahem. Anyway). Crazy thing is that I have the copies of the UPR transcript, and I have the copies of my Alma Mater transcripts. The people it's hardest for me to get hold of are of course the Sagrado Heart Registrar's office. It's like they take 3 hour lunches and leave 2 hours early. Now, I do exaggerate. By thirty minutes. Tops. Either way.

What that means for busy teacher me is that even though I KNOW USH has scheduled the ONE class I was told I needed for a FT teaching license in PR (and thus a FT teaching license here in midwestern state) and I KNOW they've scheduled it in TWO different summer sessions, and I KNOW that USH has dorms for super cheap during the summer, I haven't been able to CONFIRM that that's STILL the class I need to take. Because I can't get my transcripts out of the place. It drives me mad. I've called on my lunch break for four days straight, and even when I call before the posted noon lunch break hour I can't get through. Boo. Hiss. And they love to claim they're the premiere private university on the island. O-kay. They just can't prove it by me. Long story short, I'm 'bout to send one of my peoples over to the campus to wrangle with them face-to-face. If you can't beat'em, get your army to do it.

So I don't know whether I"ll be here for the summer or not. Even so, I went ahead and applied to the Fawakih program that's starting this summer in Indianapolis. It's an intensive, month-long program to learn Arabic. I've got to get ahead in that struggle, somehow. I've been taking the weekly (free!) basic grammar course as a part of our halqa, and I love that. And I'm very satisfied with the level of tajweed I'm learning with the help of a sister who isn't charging me a dime, may Allah reward her and bless her for her teaching and her forbearance with me.

I just want more. I'm thirsty for the language. I'm thirsty to learn things. And I want to go back to being a student- or I would if I didn't have to pay to do it. I think that's one of the worst things about academia. You have to pay to play, unless you've paid so much you feel it dripping from your veins. Then you go work to get out of hock. Unless you find a different way to do it.

And being a student is something I'm best at. Always have been. Yet again in the Two household we were having the conversation, "what do you want to do?" And in searching for the absolute truth, I said that I wanted to go back to school. I loved being in school. I knew I was on scholarship so I wasn't stressed about the cash it cost. I went to a foo-foo university and I believed (oh, did I ) that my degree from Alma Mater would mean super duper amounts of cash from a nice job when I left. Ha. (Liz, I feel your pain and I don't know what to tell you except that I've been there. Hang in, hon.)

Thing is, now I'm a 'responsible adult' ( or at least, I am when at work) and so I have to pay bills and going back to school for some Master's degree I don't really really want just makes zero sense. That's why I've been resisting (okay, passively. I"m still recovering) her insistence that I get the formal license. I hate education courses, they seem like bunk, and everything EVERYTHING I've learned that I HAD to learn about teaching I really learned from experience. I've had like 3 courses out of maybe 12 that actually taught me something I had to use in my classroom. What a waste. AlHamdulIllah it wasn't my money. I just can't see throwing away my money on more of the same. I need it to get to work. Anyone else see gas hitting $4.00/gal this year?

Speaking of which, I'ma just g'on 'head and be ungrateful because my raise this year? Will cover gas for two months in my car. I either need to get rid of the car or go somewhere to get paid more to do tutoring. Or find a better-paying side gig (and teaching on the side rocks just now). Because I need to get someone to clean my house. I can't do it. I don't have any more sick days. And I can't see letting it stay this way for the other 24 school days in the year. And my weekends? AlHamdulIllah, I'm booked solid for the entire next five weeks. Ha, and at one point I was lonely, imagine. So, since I know that others can do it better, I just need to find some cash and get somebody else to do it. I'm relaxing just thinking about it. Then everybody involved will be happy.


Speaking of gratitude, I need to be more outwardly grateful. See, that's what I mean. At one point you'd've caught me dead before I went a week without sending a thank-you note to someone who'd been especially generous, or considerate, or helpful to me. Now my cheeks burn in shame when I think of all the things people have done for me that I know I haven't properly acknowledged.

I have some amazing friends, y'all. Last week I went to counselor retreat for MYNA camps because I was 'sponsored' by one friend and driven by another; the hour I came back Samina S. opened her home to me on literally 3 minutes notice and gave me clothes to wear; when I went to a banquet that night I really enjoyed the fabulous speakers and dinner and didn't have to pay- and they ended up not needing my volunteer services for which I dined. May Allah bless every single person who has been so gracious to me, I couldn't be working and feeling at least this good without them.

I didn't say that all the house-cleaning I mentioned above needs to be done in order to accomodate JW again. He's back home after being released early from his university. We still don't know if he's been withdrawn or on probation. ALlahu Alim. Please make dua'a for that whole situation.
Since JW hasn't really been at home, I'd closed up the back (drafty) bedroom my sister and I used to share, since it gets freezing cold in the winter, and just used his. So my stuff is all over his room. Now I don't know when I'll stop and get it all up. Because then I couldn't have four blog posts this month, you see. And I feel terrible now because he's home and I'm all sleeping in his room and don't want to go back to mine.

That's it! I'm getting somebody else to do it. THat's the responsible action, after all. Let someone else clean up after me.

Somehow that's not as satisfying in print as it would be in real life, and that means I've made a compromise somewhere. I'll end up doing the cleaning myself, just as I'll end up suffering through every minute of the teaching classes I (hope I don't really) need for a license. I'll grit my teeth and sweettalk the portareecan crew and use the PR version of wasta for everything else. I'll be frustrated and still single and get it all done. But boy wouldn't it be nice to get somebody else to do it for me.



peace

TwennyTwo

Hues

assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullah wa barakatuh

The upside of not having been all about the blog this month is that I've been living. Downside? I miss all the goings-on, all the fun stuff. It's Thanksgiving Day here, and while giving thanks liberally I also had the time to peruse various blogs. Yay!

I stopped over at DP's spot, which led me to Safiya at Outlines, which led me to Umar Lee, and all of them talked in some way about spouses and husbands and interracial relationships etc. So now, my turn to think a lil bit about all of this. And I've been avoiding the topic for such a time as would lend itself to my being open and vulnerable about it.

Y'all know I'm not married. Most of the people who've read this blog came to notice it because of a post that was basically whining about options for young unmarried Muslimas. Or making valid points on the options for unmarried muslimahs, depending on your paradigm. I'm not actively searching; rather making a lot of dua'a after fruitless searches. My eyes are out there but not much else.

In reading the responses to Umar Lee's posts on the topic I've seen a lot of hateration going around, especially when it comes to American Black Women being marriageable. I've seen it so much that I've had to catch myself; at one point I had absorbed the viewpoint that my being Black made me less desireable to Muslims of other races and cultures. I actively have had to reject that inside my own head. Now, you all know that I am intensely glad that Allah saw fit to make me Black, and thankful that I am an educated professional in this country. wa Astaghfirullah. It was abhor-ably easy for me to detect that 'don't bring one of Them home' attitude through the computer screen as well as through my everyday encounters, the chance remarks, the sideways looks and the non-looks. Audhu biIllah. Shaitan is really sneaky on this one.

As for the looking- I've just stopped looking and started making dua'a instead. It's funny that when I mention that I want to get married to some of the sisters who ask about my marital status in this city (I'm new to a lot of people here), they inevitably ask what kind of brother I'm looking for. To which I reply: A good, educated man. Aisha looked at me askance when I gave her my off-the-cuff answer that I didn't care as long as he was educated and spoke Spanish. "Spanish? " she cocked her head at me, really puzzled. "When I stub my toe or yell that's the language I tend to work in," I answered half seriously.

The truth is that I... almost... I want to say 'I don't care', in that peculiarly American way that I have of using that phrase, but that's not specific enough. I don't care- about the small stuff. Or rather, I don't have a picture all prettily painted in my mind, waiting for Allah to *poof* make Optimal Husband appear and ride me into the sunset. I guess somewhere in here I've grown up, because even the idea doesn't appeal any more. Reality sneaks into my dreams daily.

No picture in my mind, hence, I can no longer reel off a gigundo list of qualities, attributes, characteristics, and assets that my future husband MUST have in order to even have a chance at my hand. Used to be ol' boy would be oh, 6'5 1/2" tall (exactly), have a Ph.D or an M.D. in his field of choice, and have impeccable manners, and love his mama to distraction. Now, though, my criteria have been way simplified after I've lived a while and done some praying and contemplating and had some of those loonnnng discussions with people I trust over cups of na'na' late at night. He has to be able to answer these questions:

1) What is your understanding of God, the Qur'an, Salat, the prophets, and the hereafter?
2) How do you feel about children?
3) Describe your relationship with your family, especially your brothers, sisters, and mother.
4) What are your goals?
5) What do you see as your and my responsibilities as Muslims, spouses, and citizens?
6) How do you handle your financial responsibilities?

And before everyone and their wali jumps all over my case, should a brother actually be serious about his suit, I'm prepared to answer those questions as well as other similar ones.

What infuriates and disturbs me is that this whole practice and permissiveness of turning down potential mates based on their skin hue and nationality and other cultural stereotypes is on a real jahiliyah tip, one that Allah and his Prophet alayi salatu wa salaam warned us about... some people need to go read surat al Asr, for real! One of our halaqa leaders always (always) ends dua'a with that- and the reasons are evident. I guess because I've done my share of crushing on various people (and that's all I need to say about that, ain't it?) I know that men of all hues can be mentally and physically attractive. How dare ANYONE lump all of that spark potential into the thin little layers of epidermis and throw away what Allah has given us? It's just taking the easy way out to separate and categorize and stigmatize on skin and culture. It's a lot harder to say, hey, this brother has good adab, appears to all who know him to be trying to get some taqwa, let's look at him a little more, oh, and he's of a brighter/darker hue. No, that's getting too deep into this selection thing. Audhu billah.

Also, it annoys me that the colorstruck members of the American Black ummah, especially brothers, are the ones who are being pointed out in all of this. What is that supposed to mean? Is it supposed to bother me that men of my own hue will search outside of their native country for women with features unlike mine? Or perhaps I'm meant to feel (even more) inferior based on the choices of those who assign no value to me? I love Black men. I was raised by and with Black men. I am thus beloved of Black men. And that's all that means. It takes little away from me to have a Black man love a non-Black woman unless I make it so. I get to choose whether or not to drink the cup of haterade. If Allah has willed an African wife for an African American man, then great for him, and if He hasn't, then great, too. Our trials are assigned, designed, and tailored just for the individual. Don't let me stand in your way.

And too, it annoys me that people automatically assume that I will only accept a Black man for a husband. Sisters come back with, "Well, I don't know of any African American brothers who are single...", I guess immediately discounting other brothers. Why would that be? Anyone who knows even a little about me realizes that I'm very open-minded in my preferences. I am positively Black for myself, that's something that radiates in the air around me, but I can't say that it means everything around me must be Black! Come on, now. It comes back to being put into boxes again on a scale so grand it boggles the mind. If Allah has decided that the best mate for me is not of my hue, then I'd be an outlandishly crazy fool to turn Him down and hunt for what my dunyawi mind and nafs tells me I ought to want. Beyond that, I've been GIVEN criteria to search for what I SHOULD want, so why not let Him lead me to what will make everyone involved happy? Plus be pleasing to Allah? I don't understand how people don't get this.

Or, to put it into a simpler metaphor: I wanted a car. I Asked (made istikara) for a car (and a computer and a husband but let's stick to the car...). And then when people asked, I said I wanted a foreign, youngish, manual trans, dark colored car with just enough leg room. And as I was about to buy that style of car (using riba'a no less, may Allah forgive me) with about 110K miles on it, the deal fell through. And I was led instead to a light colored, domestic, 20 year old, huge car that I paid for cash.

It is impossible for me to be any happier with what I have. I am exstatic. I have a car! It's distinctive and it runs well and I avoided something I KNOW causes the displeasure of the One who loves me most. Good thing I wasn't blinded by all the hues of trouble I could've gotten into.

peace
TwennyTwo

NaBloPoMo, HA!

Assalamu alaikum wa raHmatullah wa barakatuh

Yeah, so I thought I was going to do NaBloPoMo. Looks like I blew my blopos instead. I'm here though. Going shortly to take a glucose challenge test. Those of you who know what that's about... yeah. Apparently doc thinks I've got some insulin resistance going on. Since my father is diabetic, that's something I'm taking pretty seriously... before I saw her, I went and got my gym membership and started working out again.

Yes, the ol' gym membership. I signed up at a nationally known gym that decided to change its name to Urban Active. I was ticked. Urban Active?! I ask you! That sounds like I'm coming to run around my ghetto block or something. But the amenities are the same, and I think the general manager (that's who I got to speak to, yay me) took off like $200 in initial fees simply because I was up front about the fact that I think the name change stinks. Huh.

They do have an all-women's, screened-off weight and cardio station, which is why I'm paying the big bucks. That, and it's easier to get there than to get home after work, always a plus. Especially when gasoline for my '87 bigole huge car is at $3.25 a gallon for REGULAR. What a fine time I picked to begin driving. I was thinking when I took up my tutoring positions that they'd be money I could use for, I dunno, retirement savings or house savings or school, but no, it's gas money. I've started hypermiling just because of the hit to my pocket- it actually works well around here. City of the Seven Hills and all.

Anyway, I got the gym membership in part because I'm training to run the Flying Pig on May 4th inshaAllah. Mark that date down! I don't know if I'll do the half or the full marathon but I'm determined to cross the finish line. Training and cross-training is 6 days per week.

After my glucose challenge inshaAllah I'm headed to training to be a counselor for a Muslim youth group. Can you believe that the training is from 9A to 8P on a Saturday? I didn't find out about it until 11 this morning, but I really really love kids and would like to work with them, so inshaAllah I haven't missed anything I can't read up on or make up. We'll see. And one of my halaqas is holding a movie night, which I'm looking forward to, so wow, finally a busy Saturday! Hope yours is going well, too.

peace
TwennyTwo

The voice of Samina S.

Assalamu Alaikum,

I walked into the kitchen last night and told my mother, "I just realized again that I'm the only black woman teacher at the school." She laughed and asked was this new? That's a joke between us because my mother teaches at a well-known university and has for over 20 years. She's been the only black woman teacher in her department the entire time she's been there. She probably understands the ins and outs of that feeling more than anyone else.

I'm not. NOT NOOOOTTTT going into racial politics here. Just pointing out a nuance of the environment where I work. It's interesting working in an Islamic school, especially in an area where there just aren't as many Muslims. I was spoiled in DC; there are Muslims of every stripe, color, belief... here people ask which masjid you go to and from that know everyone you've met at that center. It's a different world.
Class has more to do with my feeling off-kilter than race, I think, but both are involved. The majority of my students have affluent families. During Ramadhan I was invited to some of the most amazing places for iftar; what was comforting was the fact that despite the cushy surroundings I managed to fall into comfortable, grounded, real company, the few sisters whose invitations and interactions have put me at ease.

Samina S. is one of those. She doesn't have a blog, but late on the night of October 31st she wrote something that hit home and told more about the atmosphere at the masjid and the center than I could describe in my little post. She said I could feel free to post if I wished (thanks, Samina!) so I'm doing so... let me know what you think.

peace

Many first generation kids can relate to my story: I was born in pre-Disney Orlando, Florida a year after my professional parents immigrated to the United States from Pakistan. They worked their way up the career ladder, sacrificing much to send us to the best private schools, carpooling to Sunday schools so we could learn Islam, trying to learn enough of the American culture to understand us, yet fervently praying inside that we would not assimilate too much. This mish mash of experiences provided a breeding ground for a variety of incidents that ultimately shaped my generation’s identity. Yep, we were the brown kids in kindergarten who had the only smelly tuna sandwich as an alternative to the lunchroom hot dogs. We were the second graders with the braids who wore the long dresses and pants in Florida’s 95 plus degree summers. When Thanksgiving came around, our moms would bake a chicken (because they did not know where to find the halal turkeys) with all the side items so we wouldn’t miss out. We didn’t get the Christmas presents even though we sang “Rudolph the red nosed reindeer” and “Jingle Bells” at the top of our lungs from October to March, and our Eid holiday was in the summer! Middle school was another world altogether. The excuses we made for not attending homecoming dances and football games were pretty ridiculous. I wonder if anyone really believed we had to be out of town coincidentally every weekend such events occurred. When high school came, all bets were off. We had the dads whose one look would scare us away from lip gloss altogether, forget the “real” makeup. Dating, ha-ha, God forbid if a guy from class called about a homework assignment and the conversation lasted beyond five minutes… And I had the cool parents, not all my friends were so lucky.
So did I have an unhappy childhood? No way! Despite the inferiority complex my generation has collectively inherited, most of us survived intact and recall happy youths. When I look back I know there are a few key things that allowed this to happen. First and foremost, Allah blessed me with parents who loved me unconditionally and did the best they knew. I cannot even imagine the culture shock they experienced coming to this country leaving behind their families, culture, religions, and ultimately their whole identity and trying to adapt to this “whole new world.” (That would be a completely different essay someone else would have to write, but remember that the next time you meet that new doctor from Pakistan who’s driving the Mercedes SUV and his ‘hoity toity’ wife is carrying the aqua Gucci bag with the matching sandals on the perfectly manicured feet). Anyways, getting back to the point, my parents also socialized with people of similar backgrounds and luckily for me they had kids my age that often attended my schools. So we went to the desi parties, the one place we actually fit in, and ran around, giggled, sang, ate the same food as everyone else, begged our parents for sleepovers, and basically had fun. Looking back, I realize those get-togethers and the lifetime friendships they formed were essential to maintaining our (and I suspect our parents’) sanity. So when we went back to school on Monday morning and had as I would later call it, a “low self esteem” moment, we had our friends and weekends to fall back on.
Sunday school was our other saving grace. We were blessed with a teacher who was an African American convert. She taught us Islam the way it should be taught- in a clear, straightforward way with “normal” English and lots of patience. Her lessons began in her own modest home over vanilla wafers and fruit punch. Only later did our community have a masjid (a large result of her commitment) with a full time Sunday school. She taught us the basic pillars of Islam, what they really meant, how to pray, how to fast, stories of the prophets, and what it meant to be a Muslim. I honestly believe her commitment to us learning our religion was one of the greatest blessings in my life because she instilled pride in the religion. I do not know how Islam is taught to kids in Muslim countries, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Even though I do not follow my Islam perfectly, the foundation of knowledge is there, Alhamdulillah. I also regret that our community as a whole did not give her the respect and worth she deserved (and I think this is a common flaw in the Muslim communities), but Allah will reward her inshaAllah.
High school and college were probably the toughest times for my friends and I. We had the usual identity crises, magnified by where we came from, rebellions, etc, etc. The details are better left alone, but as a whole we came out on the other end all right. Most of us followed “the mold” of college, marriage, careers, and kids. And here I am in my thirties, married, having the career, and trying to figure out how to do it right with my kids….inshaAllah.
It’s funny people are frequently interested in my perspective. Is it because I am an ABCD, because I married one, or because I have the outward appearance of worldly success? Here’s a secret or two, I don’t have any more answers than the next person, my whole generation has an inferiority complex that we try to mask with professional careers and guess what, we find that hoity toity Pakistani lady I mentioned above quite intimidating.
Anyways, here’s a few things regarding raising my kids that are important to me. After having been that only brown kid in the class trying to hide the fact that no Santa came to my house, I want things to be different for my sons. Yes I had a happy childhood, but my Muslim friends made a huge difference. Feeling like you belong to a community is very important to childhood development. Of all the valid reasons to send kids to an Islamic School, this is my number one. My 4 year old “fits in.” It may sound funny, but being able to eat what everyone else is eating is pretty cool. He is singing, “Ramadan, Ramadan” and “We are Muslims” instead of the Christmas carols I learned. He is learning stories of the prophets instead of stories of old St. Nick. Islam is our identity and being in this environment allows him to be proud to be a Muslim. I hope this builds his confidence inshaAllah, so his generation does not have to hide its identity.
Now here’s a whole other potential essay: the pros and cons of an Islamic school. Can’t do that justice here, but a few things I have to address. Some of my friends think our school is not Islamic enough. Maybe so, but the intention is there, and there’s only one way to go. Trust me it’s still better than the alternative. If you still don’t agree please do me a favor and don’t bad mouth the school in public, it discourages others and that hurts us. And one more thing, politics are everywhere. I went to the best private high school in Orlando and the politics were disgusting. Same thing for the teachers, even the best schools have a few bad teachers, and believe it or not sometimes you learn more from them. Other peers think sending your kids to an Islamic school shelters them and makes them ill prepared for the “real world.” I believe there is no better preparation for facing the “real world” than having confidence and knowing who you are. And trust me, even though my kid goes to an Islamic school, he knows about Diego and Pizza Hut and of course, Disney world. I don’t worry about him being out of touch with the ‘pop culture’. As far as academics goes, certain basic standards are necessary, but remember each kid has strengths and weaknesses. I have a friend who graduated from my high school class, went to Dartmouth and is now a drummer in a rock band (not to knock his career choice). Once again, If you still don’t agree please do me a favor and don’t bad mouth the school in public, it discourages others and that hurts us. Strength comes in numbers and if we want improvements we need our numbers.
So getting back to the point, and I’m beginning to forget why I am writing this myself, someone from our Masjid administration recently asked my husband to meet with us to discuss our outlook as an “open minded” representation of what our generation was thinking. That along with an interesting book I am currently reading (Eboo Patel’s Acts of Faith) inspired me to write this.
The masjid in our community is probably one of the most beautiful masjids in the country. Tours are given here to the public and MashaAllah, people walk away truly impressed. I remember the feeling I had when I first saw this masjid, I could not believe something so elaborate existed in this country. May Allah bless the generosity of the people who built the masjid. This institution is well respected in the city and the inter-faith efforts on behalf of the administration are truly remarkable.
Now what would people of my generation want out of a masjid? To put it simply in one word, Inspiration. After all the ultimate goal of every Muslim is to serve Allah and improve our faith. How do we do this in a culture where we are so busy with the fast life of work and kids? If only we could come to the masjid and each time we walked away be inspired to become better Muslims, inshaAllah. Or imagine when the public tours are given, the spirit of inspiration is so strong that the desire to learn what Islam really is about is piqued. Recalling the success of my long ago Sunday school teacher, I think a few simple elements are essential. To begin with knowledgeable teachers with command of the English language is essential. With all due respect to our elders, my generation has a tendency to “tune out” if the lecturer has an accent or does not speak clearly. And I can only imagine what our kids (or visitors) will do. I don’t ever want them to be bored by the masjid, especially one as beautiful as ours. Also knowledge is a cornerstone of our religion. So ideally an imam with such qualities would be great. In the meanwhile, if we have members of the community blessed with knowledge and a commitment to teach, I would hope politics would be pushed aside and such teachers would be given the opportunity to teach us how to practice our religion and improve our iman. These are the jewels of our community who should be given the utmost respect and encouragement. We should also invite as many scholars as we can on a regular basis. Yes in post 911 we have to be careful of who we give the platform to, but let’s not make it reach a level of paranoia. Any teacher of Islam with true knowledge will relay the message of peace that is the cornerstone of our religion.
In a nutshell, we would like to see the inner beauty of our masjid match, if not exceed, the exterior beauty of the facility. To do this, the ugly head of politics, egos, and arrogance needs to be removed. Instead we need an open platform where people can express their concerns with a certain level of administrative accountability and transparency inshaAllah. There really is no choice here because the alternative of not doing so includes dividing the community, having ego wars, boring (and losing) our youth, wasting the beautiful facility, and looking bad to the non-Muslims. This would truly be a loss; one that our generation is not wiling to pay.
Well, here’s the viewpoint of one ABCD trying to figure it out. By the way, I wonder what they’ll call the next generation of ours: any ideas? One last thing, no offence if you drive a Mercedes, own a Gucci bag, or match your shoes to your purse.


~Samina S.

I'll probably be commenting further tomorrow. Sis. Umm Zaid reminded me that it's NaPoBloMo so I'll do my best to post every day (!). InshaALlah.

peace
Twenny Two

Supreme Court takes Race Out Of Schools...

peace,


Now, posting every 10 days or so...

Sorry. The important thing: Are y'all watching?

ARE YOU WATCHING?!!

It'd be extremist to say that next Brown vs. Board will be overturned. On the other hand, what measures will be used to make sure that the intent of the Brown v. Board rulings will be upheld?

Check whatever news outlet you use to see. This isn't a joke. And if we're not careful no one will even see any segregation and inequality as a problem.

Are you watching?

peace
TwennyTwo

they're BAAAAAAAAAACKKKKK!!!

SOPRANOS IS COMING BACK TONIGHT!
GET READY!!


Damn, makes me reminisce for the good ole days in the Gut dungeon with the VMS(S)K crew, cokes, wings, and cheesy bread. Les extrano tanto...Happy late birthday to V, by the way...a whole quarter centr'y, but you only look 16 (lol)! Love ya!

Self Challenge Update:
Tis official. The weekends are wrecking me.

Thursday and Friday, I was good: when I got home, I went to get my mail (the office is like a 10 min walk away), and then extended the walk to the half-hour cardio exercise like a good girl. So I actually did hit my exercise goals for the week. I even did my ab work out on my roof extension/terrace/porch/thingy. THAT is a superior way to do situps; the beautiful blue sky egging me on and drawing out stress at the same time.

Yesterday, I started out well when my sister Toto called me at 7AM.

**this was 6 am in her own time zone. Let it be known that she is NEVER up this early on weekends except when I haven't slept the whole week and she wants to call me, the little witch. Good thing she is my heart or she'd be in for it :o) **


Since I was already awake after that, I decided to be virtuous and walk to the Amigo grocery store, a 3 and a half mile trek. On the way, I saw this gorgeous 1964 IMPALA in Mint Condition. I was floored. It was incredible. I wasn't so pleased, however, when it's owner decided that since I liked the car, I must want to flirt with him (the guy was old enough to have bought the car when it was brand new, hello). That was interesting to say the least. I went, did my shopping, and got back to my house by 11AM. I settled down to chores and whatnot, thinking that today was gonna be an awesome Challenge day...

...however, then my Muslim girlfriend Abira (seriously, her family is the only other muslim family I know here) called to invite me to the mall and movies (You Got Served: loved it for the dancin', plot coulda been worse). I took her up on it, since I haven't seen her or her kids in like a month. What she didn't say was that we were going to eat at Pizza Hut. Dammit!

And then, this morning's breakfast was cookies and water. Ohhhh yeah, strong diet food... like I said, the weekends are wrecking me. I think I need to build a routine. I was like that in school, too; I was one of those women who was in every group on campus at one point, because the one semester where I din't do nothin' just to please my parents, I got my lowest gpa ever (a 2.3 if you have to know). Scheduling things tightly keeps me on track. Having free time just futz's me up. Oh well. I can only move forward. Tomorrow starts Challenge Week Two. I can do this!

About a house and a happy valentine's day

to my fans, the quotations and apostrophes in this post are a little nuts, i'm working on it. ~tt

'I have a little rhythm,
it lives inside of me
and when it goes crazy,
I go dancing free."

~Me, age 7

Happy Valentine's day, yall! How's life?

I feel good, still trying to get the hang of this blog thing.
Wanna know what I did today?

Welll so I woke up freezing (it was 68 degrees- brr) at 5:00, curled and half-reclined in the easy chair, which is on the other side of the house from my room. Got up, stumbled through my dark house to my cushy, blue-flannel-sheeted bed and went back to sleep.

woke up again at 6:30.
woke up again at 6:39.
woke up again at 6:48, at which time I reset the radio alarm clock to 7:30.

woke at 7:30 to admire gold glow of the rising sun striking my varnished wood ceiling boards. I am one lucky woman- I put up with a lot of bulldukey (Toto's word), but my house has the best view in town, no contest. Anyway, there were a lot of clouds on the horizon over the ocean, but also plenty of light. Yay!

I finally got up around 8, said fajr in a very very very low and sleepy voice, and walked through my house and past the easy chair to the laundry/2nd bathroom to collect my clean drawers and bra so I could take a (downright FREEZING) shower. Before I can get back to my room and scrub my booty, the handy-men show up to finish what they've started on my house.

I should explain about the house. It's not mine, of course. I'm just out of college, so I'm renting this huge casota in Guayama. It was relatively cheap by my standards when I first began to rent it, but it's full of antiques- puts a whole new meaning on "fully furnished"- and old, old antique itself. Like historical.
In fact, that's the word I use every time I'm working on the dueño of the house to improve it just a little bit more, pull it a little more from 1949 portareeco standards to 2004 LIVABLE US colony standards.

(Yes, I said C-O-L-O-N-Y. Gotta problem wittit? In denial about the territories? Didn't even realize portareeco was a part of the USA? Email me and we'll discuss: forevertwenny (at) gmail (dot)com.)

I put on my southern heritage and feminine wiles and go to work: "Oh, Don Carlos, you simply must consider tearing down those dripping acoustic tiles. Why, one fell on the stove just yesterday, took out a pan of my homemade roast chicken. And look at the wood underneath, why, it has to go back to the historical construction." Or, " I told those handymen they just have to be mistaken, Don Carlos, I know you didn't intend for them to really paint the ceiling boards white. Surely the ceilings will have a historical glow to them when they are merely protected with a clear varnish. You would increase the home’s value by restoring that." All of this in Spanish, mind you, which is much more formal and therefore lends so many more opportunities to be a flirting debutante.

Man, the Deltas who threw my actual debut would be mad if they heard me say that.

But seriously, this house is just as much a pain in the behind as a pleasure, because someone let it go. If I had to guess, and I'm not all that educated about stuff like this, it was built in the mid-to-late 1800's for some relatively affluent people, since the ceilings are high but the rooms aren't all that big. It's had some additions, most recently the very narrow TV porch, where I chill since it opens onto the garden with the orchids- and of course, because the tv is there. Built on a woodframe, it's rare now when everything is made of concrete to withstand the hurricanes. And its full of sawdust from termites. I've never seen a termite here, but their gritty, round, plentiful, dark, almost microscopic leavings are present every time I turn around. I'm always sweeping the floors, I never walk around barefoot and I've just about given up on keeping the dust out of my shag bathroom carpet. It's like sand but worse because in my mind,it is intrinsically "dirty", making my house filthy because it just won't go away.

When I moved in, there was water damage to the white acoustic tiles above the stove in the house. But when the November rains and inundaciones came, closing schools and swamping the region for two weeks, they also brought the rotten tiles down, sometimes leaving me in danger of getting boinked on the head and one time actually taking out the second portion of my dinner.

At which point I informed Don Carlos that I was ok with living in a 3rd world country, but that I knew he had the resources to fix the house, and enough was enough. Three things I don't allow people to futz with: my family, my money, or my food.

Now I live with brand-new, natural-varnish ceilings in the kichen and two living rooms, and they're working on tearing down and replacing the walls and ceiling in the bedroom where I'll let JW stay if he decides to come. And, I'm getting a showerhead water heater, so no more cold showers!! WHOOOHOOO! It's the little things, I declare.

Anyway~ I unlock the door for the 3 handymen- Robertón, the grandad, Roberto, the son, and Jose de Jesus, the grandson- with my bra and pink Vicky undies in hand. That sparks a whole nother thought pattern, because the middle of the three is about 30 and VERY HANDSOME. (psst, Isa: He's fine as frog hairs, girl!) One side of me is blushing because this man is seeing my drawers (to get this you have to hear this word as "draauws", which is how I think it), and the other side is annoyed and hence could care less: what the heck are they doing comin'round at 8:30 on a Saturday?

Which is when I noticed that it really was 8:30 so I`d better get it going if I was gonna be on time for my driving lesson.
It's a ridiculous point of my reality that I have been driving solo for 5 years on a temps.

Twenty minutes later, I'd found out the lesson was canceled. I actually waited to call my house, thinking that 7:30 on a Sardy is too early even for my mother- so when I do call, my brother JW answers the phone and tells me that my parents are walking out the door. Dangit.

On the other hand, that meant I Spoke To JW for A Whole Twenny Minutes! You should be proud of me!

My youngest brother is 16. I love him with all my heart. I try to talk to him and send him letters once in a while, to help him through the Personal Hell that is living as the only child left in the house with our parents. They get to focus all of their attention on his very temperamental self, and it ain't easy. Talking to him is both a treat and a trial. One of those things where I know he's smarter than I was, but he's so smart he's throwing it all away. I know now where all the teacher's get the word "potential".

I offered JW the chance to live with me because I think it would be easier for him, and I think I can handle the responsibility. Right now, we're still making that decision,so I had a great conversation with him about it. He didn't snarl at all! I think he really does want to come, get away from our parents and see how he can do for himself. We'll see.

And that was just the beginning of the day.

This has been the most productive Saturday I've had in a while- I picked up the mail, spoke to my mother, sister, brother, and best friends, did more work on an incomplete project than I have in two months, and even came back home in time to offer refreshment to the handymen like a proper hostess. I got some isht done, you know? And until just now, it didn't even occur to me that this is the "Dia de Amores", the day for lovers, meant for romance and all that junk. I spent it last year sick, bummed out that I had to drop line, and feeling sorry for myself that I didn't have a boyfriend. I feel good that this year, I spent it showing some tangible responsibility and peace in myself.

on being tall and uninsured

Submitted to the Radical Women of Color Carnival : RadicalWoC2

If you don't like gross stuff, please skip the next paragraph or two.

What a world, what a day. My toenail fell off today, which is the next step in a long, long scary healthcare-free journey that started when I busted my big toe wide open on December 30th. I remember this quite acutely, because it was the day before my health insurance got cut off. (There, gross stuff done, you can read on now and see what happened.)

See, I was walking into this little tiendita (really like, a small bar, I guess) en Mayaguez, which is a gorgeous city on the eastern side of portareeco, because it was blazin' hot and I wanted a bottle of water. Being that I am over 6 feet tall, I sometimes miss little things on the ground. Like the quarter-inch difference between the outside and the inside floors of the bar. So I slide my sandaled foot right into the tile as I enter, and damaged my poor, pitiful, absolutely gorgeous toe that had done nothing to deserve such ill treatment. Dangit. OooooWEEEE that hurt.
Now, I'm in Mayaguez with a toe that is wide open, and I have to make a decision which I realize is more common than I thought: do I go to the Hospital, or not?

Today, looking back, I can understand why healthcare isn't a bigger issue on the presidential candidates's radar. Until you don't have any kind of health insurance, you don't understand just how crucial it is. Betcha hardly any of those there candidates have had insurance and then lost it. I have a Public Health minor, so insurance is something I'd thought quite a lot about, but not so much until I was injured on the point of not having any. It really changed my thinking.
My particular situation probably isn't uncommon. Last December was the sixth month after I graduated college, and my mother's insurance was going to drop me on the last day of the year. Being that I'm twennytwo and an official grownup and all.

I even had a job at that point, a relatively good one. I'm a teacher at a public middle school. But no health insurance. I had to ask about it for months, and no one really came up with a satisfactory answer. Should I have had a benefits orientation when I was hired? Certainly. Did I ask the teachers union representative at my school about it? Yup. I had to stay after the man for two months before he passed me a phone number. That phone number led to more hours of frustration before someone got around to telling me that that particular bureau handled the free healthcare for which I don't qualify. Did I spend enough time looking for private insurance? Of course. It was too expensive. The irony was that I earn too much, according to government calculations, to qualify for the puerto rican health care card, and I earned too little to afford most private insurance. Suing the people who own the bar was out of the question for me; THAT STEP SHOULD HAVE BEEN MARKED, but I should've been looking where I was going. I could see on their faces, while the woman offered to put isopropyl on it, that they were terrified I would sue. I couldn't be the typical lawsuit-hungry american in that situation. It was as much my fault as theirs. But no lawsuit and not registering with the police meant I was on my own if my toe fell off or got infected. As it did.
How many other people have passed this very way?

Shout if you can testify!

I called my mother way back in Cincinnati to tell her the news; she wanted me to visit the hospital. Me being my twennytwo year old stubborn self, decided not to. I wasn't dead, just bleeding and in pain. I wanted to fully taste the vagaries of life without health insurance. My friends Isabel and Pedro took me back to their house, where I cleaned my foot in a tub of cold water, slathered it with neosporin (with the pain killer in), and dosed myself with panadol and coquito. Dont worry, the coquito was alcohol free and darn good.

I managed to shake and salsa my way across the dance floor three days later at Isa and Pedro's wedding, bum foot and all. And for the next 5 weeks I kept up with my toes myself, with no insurance. I'm still alive, and most days I forgot all about it. Until today, when I'm rocking in my garden underneath a beautiful bright white moon and look down to see my toenail isn't there. Then, I thank God I eventually did find health insurance (Much love and strength to Nilda and Fernando G. for hooking me up with the right people to do so), so I don't have to freak out about losing some body part more important to my health.

And I don't have kids, don't have parents to care for, I'm not responsible for anybody but myself. Can you imagine if I had had that happen to a five year old child? I have plenty of twennytwo year old friends with kids older than that. i Imaginate !

I made it without healthcare insurance. The uncertainty and consequences of not having it are something I wouldn't wish on anyone, anywhere in the world. Especially not the twennysomethings who are just starting to take responsibility for the world. Not anyone whose situation could end up so much worse, way worse than me.