Don't listen, plus, filling the bucket

assalamu alaikum,

I understand why people don't listen to music, I really do.

I don't want to get into it though. Just sayin' that Chrisette Michelle (perfectly okay lyrics... well. Um.) got me understanding that a bit better. A sound I grew up on, with the synthesized soul. Had my life not gone differently it's how I'd be singing.

I'm doing a 'Filling the Bucket' List. Someone over on FB gave me the idea. What do I want to do before I turn 30?

What would you recommend I do before I turned thurdy? That didn't require a whole lot of specific cooperation from others. (Therefore, marriage and kids and their ilk are out. Keep up the adiyat.)

BAM got married today... and NYC supposedly saw a historic snowstorm. I hereby dedicate all my replays of 'If I Have My Way' to Steven and Megan. I won't make further remark after I say, CONGRATULATIONS!


peace
twenny

When it isn't for you, and when it isn't for you: Building a bridge

assalamu alaikum,

So, my Brother from Another Mother (BAM) is getting married. He clearly is happy about it but also would be just as happy not to get married.

To be writing this mere months after our conversations online and here in person on marriage is... wow. Life: The Great Unexpected Adventure.

I, well, I acted all girly (sue me, it's not my norm) and squeed and such.

Now, let me tell you a secret: way back when adiyat were needed, I said several prayers for BAM. One was for him to find a job. Two was for him to find a job that had all he needed. Three was for him to find a way to keep his love in his life despite the ticking of biological clocks in folk's ears. We had a very deep conversation, and paramount (or at least, very clear to me) were the facts that 1) he loves her to the point of vulnerablility 2) he don't want no kids not no way not no how 3) the intersection of the two might be the point of breakup for them.

So I am happy that they are getting married. Even if it is for the reasons they are getting married. Go read him yourself to find out details.

I'm still praying for him, is all. For them, now. YAY, love! However you come to it and decide it's worth sticking with.


Another of my longtime friends, Bella, not too long ago had her first son. As I consider myself another honorary 'Titi' to this kid since I remember the night of his parents' first date and REALLY liking his dad (as I recall, Bella is one of those I told 'you're going to marry him' years ago), of course I'm over the moon and thrilled for them. MashaAllah.

I've already remarked countless times that finding my husband and settling down to raise a whole bunch of kids is one of my biggest desires/dreams/wishes/things-I-want-but-can't-make-happen-alone. This year, though, call it 2010 or 1431, the only resolution I made was to let that go. I've been so stressed out by and about the great search that when I really had to focus on other things, and let it go, it felt good for the first time. It was okay.

Just okay. But I can live with that. I'm learning to do that.

I took the GRE's the other day and got a 1310, and it was a weight off of my shoulders and another step toward getting out of my less than financially rewarding job and on with a different dream, that of being a nurse-midwife (don't look now, you'll turn around and i'll be a nurse-anesthetist!). It's something I've wanted for a while.

Managing the application while dealing with my job has been tricky though. They pulled out their 'are you working for us next year' form earlier than ever. My first year, as I recall, I had to return that form in March. They sent it in January this time. I just went ahead and marked it yes and returned it.
My understanding is that I might not have my job regardless, but it's good to hedge my bets. Or something. My immediate boss is pretty intimidating, as was noted by my sixth graders the other day in class.
(That was actually HILARIOUS. "Miss Two, do you think Mrs. V is scary?" Me: Oh my goodness, child. What kind of question is that?... Him: "Do you think she's scary, though?" Me, fronting like a mamma-jamma: No, I think she's pretty responsible, she holds you accountable, but I don't think she's scary. Kids: "We do!" Himself: "I think she's really scary. When she looks at you like that. She's mean." ... ol' girl has some work to do on her public persona as a vice-principal when the brashest kids around call her not just mean, which is part of the job, but scary...heh. I should've said yes. But they're also blabbermouths.)

I think, though, that I haven't completed the application because I'm terrified of the what-ifs. What if Allah in his wisdom has decided this thing, that I've finally decided to go for, isn't for me?

And, what to do with a "career" when I decide that it's not for me? What do I do with my dream of companionship when, 10 years later, I realize it's not for me?

I've been dreaming about D and crew (Flint, Day, and Simona especially) lately, to the point that I picked up the phone and called. DC just got slammed by (yet another!) snowmaggeddon, about 20 inches this time. It might've' been the snow. I think it's something else, though. I've known D for 10 years; it took me quite a while to realize the strength of those feelings, and a little while longer to firmly tell myself that I wouldn't let them get out of hand.

I've known Flint for just as long D, though we're not nearly as close. And I had that same feeling when I saw Day; that they would be getting married. I 'called it' if you will. Their wedding's coming up, too. That makes me happy. The prospect of D getting married to Simona makes me happy as well... with a considerable mixture of other more sullen emotions that I don't really care to examine too deeply or publicly.

(I can hear D yelling at me now. "Who said anything about me getting married?" Buddy, if you don't accept by now that I can call them...) I did beg off when D asked me if I sensed the 'you're getting married' aura about Simona in part because I KNOW my radar is off when it comes to D. Let those chips fall where they may, I don't want anything to do with it.

Those feelings are what bother me now, really. I'm actually (really and truly ) okay with laying off the Great Search for this year, since I devoted all of 2009 to it, and it made me weary. I see myself distancing myself from my friends and it hurts. I get quiet so I won't have to think so hard about what I let come out of my mouth. So I can hear what they're saying and be about them for a while.

I don't like feeling jealous of my friends' good times, though; detest feeling that the way I'm thinking about it now makes it about me. I want to get to the place where it's all about happy. I've lost my way about that. I don't know how to recover it. I mean, normally the way to get over jealousy is to wish the person well and then go get your own whatever-it-is-that-finds-the-lost-remote happy.

I'm also scared: fearful of losing my grip on aqidah and haqq in my search for something that might never come my way. Scared I won't get in to school. Scared school won't help me go where I want to go. Scared to invite people over to see my house and the chaos that is my life. And bitter: bitter that I can't just use my own willpower to make what I want happen. Bitter that people I love don't realize how very, very blessed they are. And I don't know where to start to fix it.

Blogging is cheap therapy, if somewhat ineffective.

I'm still feeling my way around things like this, between the confident, responsible young girl I was and the reticent, emotional, disorganized adult. Something happened there after high school. I hope it'll be untangled by the time I'm old and realize it really didn't matter in the first place.

Still reaching for the One.


peace
twenny

That's why

assalamu Alaikum,

(My friend Isa sent me a card! I was so happy to hear from her mashaAllah. That sparked this conversation. Just a reminder... everyone has someone who loves them.)

Sister: Aww! Your friends love you!

Me: I dunno why. I can remember some times when I acted very unloveable.

Sister: But you're so endearing when you do it!


InshaAllah blessings of self-awareness and love in 2010.

peace
twennytwo

5 Things I love

assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullah
bismillah

Who can't take time to think about just five things they love? Well, I got the flu, so now I really WANT to. Priorities...! So, in no order at all...

1. Sunshine.

This year I feel as if I'm almost caught up on my sunshine quota. Just sitting in sunlight makes me happy, and I have always been so. These days the light right after Asr time (late afternoon) flows through the old leaky picture windows and creates this warm happy glaze and I'm happy to sit, chin on knees, atop the down staircase for an hour and let it soothe and revive me. (Vitamin D, ya know.) Even the worst of days can contain a little sun!

2. Good Advice.

I love living near my family again for this. And studying personal finance has really given me mental peace, pieces of which were certainly missing last year. But good things tie together. My women's halaqa leader's full of awesome advice, and I've felt better since starting to follow it. I've been creating my own lunches in the school kitchen (since, why not?), and I'm more tickled by my idea of using cheap baby spinach in my sandwiches instead of lettuce, and using instant coffee to make 'iced coffee' at work, than a slew of other things. My mother's advice on letting the kids' grades fall where they may was also excellent. Also? I take that finance course with like 6 couples, one of whom is a cop, who told me to just pay the ticket (and avoid the court fees). Good solid advice just rocks.

3. Handiwork.

Until recently, my bed was covered by an old quilt my great-grandmother made. This year I've noticed that as a school team, we tend to connect best over things we produce. I wore a certain green skirt to school and was talking about sewing with other teachers all day- we're going to have another sewing party! The engagement of another teacher here meant bringing desserts for her celebration, and the discussion of buy vs bake and how to make filled the halls with good cheer. Even the male gym teacher made homestyle chutney to go inside an Eid exchange gift bag. We lose a lot of the human touch of craft and care in these professional and service jobs, but for me, crafts and hand work will always be a touchstone.

4. Prepping the night before

Ah, this is not a lifehack. No, no it's not. It's one of the keys to my happiness. I didn't realize until I started doing it again that being ready for the next day before bed is just awesome. It's not just 'ooh, I'm ready, I get 5 more minutes in bed'- though that's plenty nice!- but that I spend 10 minutes ironing and talking to my father. Or cooking and laughing with my mother. I'm not worried about breakfast because it's all ready to go. My picture-day outfit really does look okay. It takes a million sad or stressed moments out of my day, being ready at night. Plus I'm a night owl. Things don't get started for me until sunset. Planning and doing things in the night is another way for me to feel like I'm living my life in the when that I prefer.

5. Henna

I still recall (and have a photo of it!) getting henna for the first time as a new Muslim. I love everything about it: the mixing and sifting and making just the right formula, the flexibility in use from head to toe, how the designs and use are so traditional and even a sunnah. But also that to beautify with henna takes patience and time, even as you can share it with so many. My secret is that I love that henna is a way for me to take Brown back, a beautiful, varied, and natural color that is so often ignored or treated as a non-color. (Don't believe me? What does 'colored' eyes mean to you?) So each time I mix henna personally I make it my mission to get that deep dark near ebony color and spicy, light aroma, like tea, that keep the henna subtly on the wearer's mind.


What 5 things do you love?
UmmLayth tagged me, and I took my sweet time about it, but this was a fun moment in my morning. I tag: Koonj baji, Umm Ibrahim, Yangd, Jo, Nzingha, LuckyFatima, and anyone else who wants it. Not sure if anyone will do it but it was fun doing it, so enjoy.

And then life got bizz-ayy

assalamu alaikum,

Okay, so the Fawak.ih Intensive has been making life super busy. I'm staying at the home of my most gracious friend, and that has really made it easy. I realized- between Nene's wedding, ISNA/Independence Day in DC, and now this, I haven't been home more than 3 days at a time this summer since the last week in June. I'm cherishing it, too. I think the reason I put up with being a teacher in part is the long summers, my best season, in which to spend my time as I please.

So this summer for one month I've chosen to spend my time learning Arabic in the intensive program. I'm beginning to think that programs like this may not be for me, though. Or, I have to reconfigure how I do them. Since I'm staying with my amiga, who lives in the city but nearly an hour away, we miss a lot just in transportation time. Nearly 2 hours each day goes to riding back and forth on the highway- and of course, it's construction season, so that can suddenly be longer in a flash. If I really wanted to study, I'd see about getting a room in the hotel in front of the institute. However, last year I stayed there and got VERY ill- and a lot of the women staying there are getting sick this time- so I'll take a few missed days/hours and inshaAllah stay healthy.

I love the course. I love languages (BAM and The Muslimah can attest), and though learning this one isn't a cakewalk, it's still a worthwhile pursuit. Of course, I made the intention to learn fisabilillah before I went to the program. Which is good, because this is coming with some tests!

First thing is jobs. Alhamdulillah, I still have a job after what I wouldn't call an excellent year, last year. But. I left the school year extremely frustrated with the school, administration, the way things were left previously... etc. In other words, I was ready for a break. I didn't actually stop working until the last week of June, well after the other teachers left, because I was dealing with a mess that the teachers previously had left, but one that I hadn't taken the time to organize.

Annnnnd... so of course I get calls this week and it stresses me out. I'm glad to be moving to a new position (older kids, in an area where I have more experience, inshaAllah) in the school, and I know that even having a job is a blessing right about now. But OMG. My blood pressure and heart rate are jacked just thinking about it. I need a different job, yo. This is my last year.

Then? Of course, it just so happens that my celebrity crush is one of the lecturers at the Fawa.kih program. I don't know how much I need to say about that. But um, yeah. Glad my skin isn't pale, because I surely was flushed and flustered half the time. That was a nice feeling, though...ah, I don't know how to explain it.

My friend and I came up with a new joke, though: Como es que se baje la vista de un hombre bajo? Ask me in the comments if you don't speak Spanish/can't find a translator/don't get the joke.

And? I've sewed a couple of pairs of pants since I've been here, including one for my amiga, which came out really well. It really does give you a boost when you feel as if you are well dressed, and it's fun to be able to say to the other ladies, yes, I sewed them myself, and it's easy, and I'd be happy to show you! Such a feeling of accomplishment, mashaAllah.

So, that's the update. I'm sure there was something else I wanted to talk about, but I need to go study for an exam... Yay, Arabic!

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

It's almost done...

Assalamu Alaikum,

Wow, that's now two months this year that I've skipped posting.... my bad.

May began with a bang, and you know what? IT NEVER LET UP!

First, alhamdulillah, I ran the Conservopolis Half Marathon and FINISHED. My completion time was extremely slow, but faster than the 4:30:00 I originally projected on my entry form! Takbir!
I... man I was sore for like a week afterward, but I'm still high on the accomplishment, a month later. I have never been so unsure of finishing anything. Alhamdulillah, I did. Even after having 2 separate asthma attacks (doggone honeysuckle). Even after having to walk more and run less than I wanted.
My sister was a HUGE help. I was grumpy at the beginning of the race- A2, my assistant, ran with me for the first 2 miles, then peeled off ahead. But I knew I wasn't going to be able to go much faster than I did. (A2 actually finshed an hour before I did. Go A2!)

But man, when my sister popped out at that first mile, I had to laugh. She literally POPPED up; boing-ing up and down from the curb, screaming: "Yaayyyhooooo! THAT'S MY SISTER! HI SISTER!" and hugging me with a squeal. She then proceeded to pop up several times during the race, and she walked with me for a couple parts of it. You know, I wasn't going to tell my family that I was racing- and I still didn't tell my father until after I finished... and that's all I'm saying about that here...- but I don't think I'd've finished without my sister being there. Especially after that asthma attack at mile 6.

Oh man, and I saw a couple of people I hadn't seen in a while, including Miss Elizabeth, my old swim teacher! She was my teacher when I was tiny and unconfident, and she's such an inspiration to me. We share a birthday, which is also pretty cool. I'll have to tell you about her some time.


ANYway. So yes, I finished the half marathon. And then, I dunno, life got hard. Oh, yeah, I found out I have an ulcer or similar gastric-distress-causing issues with my stomach. That was not. fun. And I had strep twice in May- the second time after Baji had her baby...

... which was a boy! named Amin. So that's 3 boys for Baji and Baya. May all of them be righteous in the way of Allah, and a blessing to their parents and family, amin!

... which means that I have not actually met that baby yet. Boo hiss. And i was out of days by then, so I just took the prescription Baji had given me earlier (she's my doc) and trooped into work. And then? Then the ceiling fell in and I planned:

-1 Field Trip an hour away with 40 preschoolers
-1 Field DAY concurrent with a Graduation for same preschoolers
-3 booth games for the school fundraiser, which was today

All within 10 days. Because I am nuts and also because I don't like to look at calendars.


So please forgive me for not posting in May. I was a teeny bit busy.

In other news, Practimate is... hmph. Don't get me started. The lectures have re-started, mashaAllah, and I'm still thinking about asking for a refund for matching, since none of my matches seemed to be open to being matched to a Black woman. Go figure. Or don't. I'm not going to talk about that any longer. I am still recommending Practimate to single Muslims, but only for the mashaAllah-excellent lectures.
That reminds me, I wonder if Half Our Deen is up?

And yes, Sunny and Catty1 are getting married next weekend. BUT D, one of my bestest friends from childhood and beyond, is getting married 2 weeks after that. AND, I've registered for Fawakih, yay! And ISNA, yehoo! My summer is looking up. InshaAllah yours will as well...


peace
TwennyTwo

It's da firstadda muuunth...

assalamu alaikum,

Yesterday was a great day. The end to a hectic week, really. We went to an amusement park. I hadn't been in like 10 years. I was happy in the car after I dropped off one our MYNA girls. The sun shone. Before that, a couple days ago, I spoke for a couple hours to some very good friends who happen to be parents of students about what's been going on at the school. I've been working so hard that just good reflective adult conversation is such a sweet thing. I don't get it anywhere else. Maybe halqa, but we haven't had that in a couple weeks. Sinan said he'd talk to some friends of Farhan's, but- well, developments and my own changing feelings mean I'm not all that invested in that whole situation. Then he and Baji let me sleep in their awesome guest room. That rocked. The week was long, field day and graduations done, and yesterday evening, I was happy.

This morning, on the way to halaqa, my mood kinda tanked. I'm worried about JW again. His... personal hygiene has slipped recently. At least he's maintained his progress on the deen front- he is not an atheist. I worry that he's slipping. Maybe it's nothing. That's in the back of my head. I make dua'a every time I think about it.

It's the first day of the rest of my life. Today at halqa we were talking about various sahaba, may Allah be pleased with them. One was AbuDarda'. We read the story of how, when Umar went to inspect his province in Damascus, he discovered that AbuDarda''s pillow was only a saddle, and his covering a sheet barely good enough to keep off the chill, that they remembered the hadith of the Prophet (s) about letting your provisions be as much as those of a rider. That was so much food for thought for me. I've made intention to get things together in my house, but. We talked about Abu Bakr, and how he was so worried about the three or four things he left when he died, because the things we leave we will have to account for. I'm getting rid of the junk in my house. I've got to. It's cluttering my mind.

We have so much. Even when people in my life are literally going crazy. I have so much, alhamdulillah.

Happy June.

peace
TwennyTwo

just. don't. stop.

assalamu alaikum,

if you're going through hell
keep going
-unknown

And a very happy Memorial Day to you United States Americans out there.

i'm a jumble of emotions and actions and intentions just now. i woke up before fajr (way before fajr) thinking of my grandmother, the one who died not that long ago, and i haven't actually been the most cheerful chipper cheerleader lately anyway.

It's a struggle. Everything is a struggle. More so now than most times, but. That's how it goes, idn't it?

It astonishes me that i am still processing grandma's death. because a year ago, she wasn't dead. And because before she was dead i didn't really need her. no, that's not right. More like i didn't really talk to her. Because we fought a lot before she died. A lot a lot. Too much. To the point where i could not see any other way to feel about her but a strong negative. i felt pushed into hating her and i couldn't stand that every time i approached her i was rebuffed or criticised. Every. Time.

It was the sheerest choking surprise when i looked at my mother's face and saw she wasn't lying or trying to deceive me when my mother said, "My mother loves you, honey." Love was the last emotion i'd use to describe what went on between my mother's mother and me. And i was hurt and mad and ashamed that i felt this way about someone and couldn't stop myself. It was my duty to love her and i did not see a way to do so. Forgive, maybe, but i still don't know where love would come from in that relationship. And i'm angry at myself for that, too. For not loving and for asking myself to love where i was so deeply hurt. i feel caught. even as i make dua'a to Allah to expand her grave and make it light, and i do that almost every time i pray. i don't know why.

Today i caught myself praying that my children never feel the way about my mother that i feel about my grandmother, that my grandchildren never feel that way about me.

ha. children. grandchildren. inshaAllah.

Shoot, now there's the question of the day- where does love come from at all? Must be from above. i don't want to be philosophical or anything, just that question seems really applicable to my life lately. i was able to stop taking certain meds, and that's great. but stopping means my mood swings to extremes as a side effect, until my body is back to 'normal'. (Don't use drugs, drugs are baaad). i start wondering if i really should feel how i feel. And what is love, anyway?

i went to the u of conservopolis msa picnic today. Got lost and got there really late. Frustrating, really, how i know so many places here, have been all over the city, and yet cannot drive myself to any of them because i didn't learn to drive and so didn't drive myself anywhere until after i left conservopolis. i know landmarks and not street names. The picnic today was at one of those places; we held my Sr. class cut day at the park there. Nine years ago this week, as a matter of fact.

good grief, i've been out of high school for nine years. that's a whole 'nother pot of anguish right there. Or, it could be, but i'm not going there.

as happy as i was to be out-of-doors on probably one of the last pretty days before that huge band of tornado-and-thunderstorm weather hits (and i'm still praying for those killed in the last couple of days), man, i've got to get me some girlfriends or something. And that takes time. And a certain softening of my personality that comes, like, twice a year maybe. Otherwise my directness and forthrightness and brashness doesn't lend itself to being close with the women in this particular group. *sigh*.

i know it's how it's supposed to be, and some of my fave women were there, but some of the Catty Crew were also there. I have to forgive their youth a LOT, and i have some forgetting to do over the MYNA camp this winter. And i hope they can forgive whatever they must be seeing in me. i can be a hard person to deal with.
And it was one of those things where the sisters 'mingled with' and 'ignored' the brothers. We all shared the same space but there wasn't a lot of talking, which, again, i mean, alhamdulillah, it's something i still struggle with all the time. My assistant, A., was there, and i was glad to see her but i think we shouldn't maybe see each other so much. Seema was there. A couple other sisters i love talking to were there. Marya was there. So was Farhan. In fact, i think that whole family was there. i like his sister, but didn't get to talk to either of them as much as i'd like.

i spend so much time looking out, or looking back, or looking forward, but the reason i'm going through so much is because i want to be happy with the now. And that's a hard balance to find. As goal oriented as i am, as many things as i want for myself, i know i get too focused with what should be, too wrapped in the target to feel the bow. i forget that in order to fly i have to let go, too.

And i have to forgive myself. Everybody has bad days. i've been listening and taking in what others say, and it's been causing me hell. i can't allow my good days to be determined by anyone else's gauge. Maybe my desk and my bedroom are all awry, the details of xyz event aren't written, i forgot to say salaams to someone, i'm not meek and certainly not married. i haven't been to the gym that i'm paying for in a month, my brows are bushy, and my mood has changed from this second to that.

But hey, my shoes are on the right feet, my clothes and body are clean, there's gas in my car and food to eat (ho, boy, is there food to eat...), i show up to work. once in a while i even halfway smile. i'm still going somewhere- one foot in front of the other. i'm still going through hell. That's okay. i just can't stop.

peace
TwennyTwo

InshaAllah... part I

assalamu alaikum,

Hmm, not so productive a weekend for me. I woke on Saturday with ganas to get some MAJOR cleaning, weeding, and organizing done. Last week I planted some flowers- dahlias, petunias, impatiens, coleus, all red, and some stevia to go with the na'na' on the porch for tea- for my Mama while she was in South Carolina with my great-grandmother. I also started some loads of laundry that were sitting, folded and waiting to be put away. I also intended to rest a bit, since my preschoolers are going on a trip to the world-renowned Conservopolis Zoo at 8:30 AM Monday. (Man, don't those PM preschool parents just luurve me!)

Yeah so I was going to do all that and just started feeling terrible. Achy. And ended up flat in the bed for most of Saturday with a 102 fever. That's with medicine. I was a sick Twenny.

This wouldn't've been such a big deal except for: a) all that stuff I really really wanted to do above; b)the zoo trip coming c) halqa on Sunday.

I know I'm rambling! Yes, there is a story about someone learning more about Islam! Part of the story is getting you to the good parts. This is why I was bummed about missing halaqa:

See, I know I told y'all about the Native Deen concert in Conservopolis, but I left out some juicy things until I was sure they were worth mentioning.

While at this conference and concert, I was sitting next to the wife of my halaqa leader, May, on the aisle. Across the aisle from us were a girl who was familiar to me from some girls' parties at 'Eid last year. I'd met her a couple of times, she was nice, but her name escaped me for one reason or another. (She's Marya, by the way.) There was a man sitting on her immediate right. I've seen him at halqa like twice, total, at this point.

He keeps looking over at us.

At this particular point I know this brother is either peepin' me, or May. And everyone and their mama knows May is married to my halaqa leader. And she hasn't been any more outstanding than usual today. Maybe he's just debating whether to say hello. Maybe he's looking at me. Maybe. Or maybe someone behind us. Or maybe I'm trippin'. I figured I was trippin'. And, that if I saw ol' bro at halaqa the next day, maybe then I could start thinking he was looking my way.

And then I told myself not to be so conceited and went about enjoying the concert.

Next day, however, I get to halaqa at the masjid late (it was Mother's Day, so I'd been planting in the rain) and look who's the only person there waiting with our leader...yup, mystery brother. That was a surprise since he hadn't been at halqa in some time. I don't think I'd seen him there twice in a row before.
He's definitely LOOKING AT ME. This was disconcerting. He was sitting beside Bro. Leader and I kept catching him looking away as I looked up. Huh? Do I got toothpaste on my face or something?

Whatever, right?

Right.

So the next day there was an aqiqah for another notable family in the community and once again we're all there. I got to sit at the table with Marya and asked, "Who was that guy with you yesterday, your husband or uncle or brother?" She laughs when I say 'husband' and goes, "Nah, that's my big brother Farhan. Neither of us is married." Crucial info there.

Skip forward through a really tough week to Friday night gathering. Yay- Marya's there! If nothing else, I figure I've got a new friend, because we have a lot in common. We're both really tall. She's studying to be a nurse, and has a big family. We both speak Spanish, and she's spent some time in Germany as well. And we both love kids. This sister is just interesting, mashaAllah. It's so nice to find someone with similar interests who is close to my age here. We talked the whole night about everything from school to clothes to kids to careers, and I enjoyed her company.

But imagine what starts going though my brain when, after she says salaams and sits down with a plate of food, the first thing she says is, "So what's going on on the marriage front for you?" And when I say nothing much, she asks, "And what exactly are you looking for in a brother? Like, to marry?"

Word? It's like that? Now that's interesting.

So I invited Marya herself to the halaqa today, figuring I'd never seen her there, she'd enjoy it... etc. And she begs off by saying she has two exams on Monday- but she might decide to study really hard on Saturday, in order to make it on Sunday.

and then I end up sick with a fever! Of all the things to happen.

InshaAllah, khair, right? What Allah has decreed will happen, right?

I'm so happy about what did happen...y'all wouldn't believe it if I told you.

Or will you?

peace
TwennyTwo

I'm supposed to be getting the Pimp Car (tm) fixed.

assalamu alaikum,

And I will get it fixed. Before y'all jump on me for calling it anything associated with a noun traditionally meaning someone/a trade that oppresses women, just stop. Go google 1987 Chevrolet Caprice. Then come back and tell me I'm wrong.

But one night of sleep later and I'm still thinking of something that's been bothering me; mainly that I'm languishing in a world of women. See the comment above. I'd never have made it two years ago. You gotta problem with me calling it a pimp car? Aiight, sounds like your problem.

This is a personal problem. I tried to go over it with someone else here and it fell flat. My mother understands how I feel though. I think I've tried to go over it before; I didn't know that this feeling would follow me.

I don't really like women all that much.

No, that's not true.

I like women a lot, can chill and work with other women just fine. I need to say, gratefully, that I have been welcomed with assistance and open arms and open doors just about everywhere in the Ummacommunity here in Conservopolis. I just don't function at my peak, or do well emotionally, being around all women, all the time. Yes. That's it. This 24-hour women station is getting on my nerves. When I was in DC working as an interpreter/admin, the same thing got to me. I was living with two women (who later developed their own drama), TheGreatestBossEver (man) had left, leaving me in a place where 5 women and 1 man worked regularly. The man was the finance guy, so I didn't have much to do with him, but sometimes his presence did mitigate things. And one of the women took an active dislike to me but I digress. Even without the drama that woman caused I felt like I was gonna strangle one of these CHICKS. Eccccchhhh.

Then I got the job at Grocery Store, where the manager was Lisette, and she has another female trainee working her way to the top, but many of the others were guys. That worked well. I felt like I could let off some steam and be my straight-shooting self without having to worry about emotions and cattiness and moodiness all the time. A lot of the guys were teenagers so I got to be big sister all over again, in work-mode of course. And truthfully, my last set of roomies was the best because... they weren't very socially girly. We weren't all mushy and dramatic- one had her engagement break off and didn't engage in the hysterics and I felt able to help her through it without drowning in it.

Because my job was so public, there was never anything inappropriate but I felt/feel at ease in the um relaxed? way that men interact. I don't know why girls hit puberty and do all sorts of tension-causing things. But I do think I know why I was miserable almost all of my seventh-grade year when it came to friends. I was trying to fit in with the girls. I quit that mess and was happy through senior year... when I had to work with a bunch of girls again. I was good in college (athlete in a sport pretty much dominated by men with a strong women's team, then mentored by male student leaders who were years older than I) until I started trying to be more "halal in my interactions" and join sororities and stuff. Hmm. I think I'm seeing a pattern.

So I moved to Conservopolis, and that was a blessing from Allah all wrapped up in a bow. Alhamdulillah! No qualifications. I came here, I have a place to stay with my family and I see my sibs all the time, I feel like the pimp car was, again, wrapped up and presented to me (and has had NO problems until the other day when the wipers shut off as I was heading down a major highway at 9PM in a rainstorm at about 70MPH... yeah that was an iman-building moment), I have a couple jobs where I'm surrounded by Muslims. And by the end of any given day my teeth are on edge. Too many women? Not enough men? I'm thinking it's one of the two. To be truthful, it's leavened by the fact that all of my tutoring gigs involve my teaching boys.

So I was face-up on my bed trying to make sense of this, and my moms came to speak to me (one of the truly marvelous things about living in Conservopolis. Random Mama Access when I need it. AlHamdulillah), and as she was leaving I think I asked her did I always tend to get sort of depressed around girls. Or something like that. She paused at the doorjamb and told me, "I've been thinking about that. You know, I realize that Islam has some aspects that are good for you. And you need them. So that's good that you're in it. But I worry about you. You're around nothing but women all day long, and you have never done well like that. Are you sure that this being separated from men is a religious requirement? Or is it cultural? Because you can take the religion and leave the culture, you know."


Yup. My mama said that. Or pretty close to it. I kid you not. So first, a takbir that she's actually said 'Hey, I know Islam is right for you'.

But. Um, yeah, the person who can lay claim to knowing me best in the world pretty much outlines the exact same concern I have. And yes, I did tell her why I know that this particular way of being is part of the deen and not just cultural. She and my sister find the idea of not dating at all completely foreign. I shall not start down that path, only say that it ain't for me ANYway, something I decided BEFORE I was Muslim, because God knows what He's doing.

Is this something fix-able? I have no idea. I mean, I can... try to join the MSA at University of Conservopolis. I went to one of their events the other day, and it was a lot of fun. Everyone was separated, like there was no pairing off or anything like that, but everyone was having a good time and there was the chance for a couple of comments and the hum of the jokes in the background. The leader of my Sunday halaqa was there (we all respect him and look up to him so things were definitely kept on the halal more than usual), and everyone was having a good time.

At the same time, when you put people in the mix like that, folk start seeing things. One brother pulled me aside and asked me for advice because he 'saw' one of the older brothers flirting with one of the sisters. He claimed that he wasn't alone and there were others, his question being, what should he do? Step to the guy and tell him to quit flirting? Talk to the sister involved or to her older sibling? Say nothing? *sigh* Even with the best of intentions someone has to mess something up. I mean that empirically, without pointing any fingers at anyone in that mess. (I might talk a bit about that particular situation later, since it involves people who were at camp, and I don't know that I want to go there without talking out my camp issues. And I might not talk about it at all.)

I don't see a whole lot I can do. As my sister pointed out, my social interaction is very limited between trying to be good and pattern my interaction on the teachings of the Prophet as I learn them, and on the other side being a product of my culture and particular upbringing. I think I will join the UC MSA, that might help. (I'm concentrating VERY HARD on not thinking about a certain man I know is in that group. I don't want to join if Ima get crush-a-licious, I don't need that either.) I should also note that my interactions with my father and brother are not where they could be- one brother is on the West Coast, one is ill and needs my support, not the other way around, and my father and I both work hours where we don't see each other much. When we do, we talk about the Pimp Car. So my outs aren't really outs.

I guess this is the non-romantic side of my whining back in the day. I'm more intellectual, more jocular, less outwardly-focused than the women around me, and when I do find women like that, they're busy and don't have the ability to be friends. Much. I'm working on a couple of sisters at work who are younger and less dramatic, getting to know them better- of course, they work at the other side of the school, the middle school, which is where I trained probably because that's where my personality lies.

Ladies, if you've read this far, thank you. Please shed some light as you will. Guys, I'm not trying to leave you out, just doubtful any male readers still lurk here. And if you're lurking thanks for listening. My father (and my gut)insists that I get the Pimp Car fixed- I was supposed to be there two hours ago, so I'm outta here...

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

Vignettes: kunecshuns

peace,

It has been a while. I've missed writing so much that I feel slightly out of touch. Or maybe it's that I feel very out of touch in my life generally. Whichever the case, if I wrote all that I have waiting inside from what I've done and seen and felt since I 'left', I'd never get it all out. And I need to get it out so badly that I took a Zipcar and rented a computer to do so...

Thus short scenes for now.

*Oh, and I've made major and minor changes to names so I don't out my friends. And being that several things happened a good time ago, it may be slightly adjusted to fit my failing memory. Okay? Okay.

****

awesome pad thai lunch in Tenleytown with Reea and Leila before Reea goes back to Cairo

"Yo, Reea, I need your address. So I can write you and remind you what's going on here."

Yeah? Well, it's Reea AbuKasim*...

Do I need to write it in Arabic?

*giggles from Reea* no, silly. Write it in English.

i finish addresses and write name in Arabic, doodling.

Oh, wow, you write really well in Arabic. That's better than I would write it.

MashaAllah. Yeah even after all that class in Arabic, I can't write well. I can read Qur'an but writing...

Same. Where did you learn?

Alma Mater, two semesters before I decided to actually try and graduate on time. Is that how you would write it in Arabic?

Yeah, except it's with a 'Q'.

What is it with Egyptians and 'q'? You and Mahmood both dropped the Q off of qari on the trip. And now you write your name with a Q... so would it be AbuAsim, then?

Yeah, they do, don't they?

No, its AbuKasim with a K. My friend writes it with a Q in English and I'm like, "who is this person?!" Yeah, and we turn J to G. There is no G inside Egypt.

So you all go to Goomah on Friday? Ohhhh man.

Awesome qari's though. Or Aris.

Speaking of aris, you know who's a good one?

Mahmood surprised me.

Is he a good ari?

(Reea and I at once) Incredible. MashaAllah.


****
The song "Party like a Rockstar" zaps my eardrum. I switch to the other ear, as my sister's voicemail clicks on...

This is To's phone. My phone is currently broken? So if you would, leave a message, and also leave a return phone number.

"S*$&!! Daggonit!"
The cellset bounces off the bedquilt onto the pillow and almost misses slipping to the hardwood floor.

****

Getting to work, part I

I'm due to clock in at 2:30 PM, and leave my house at 1:45. I decide to be smart and spend the $18 on a cab from my hood and be on time instead of chancing the metro.

"You're headed to Old Town, so you might want to take 110."

"110? If it is on Washington, it will be better to take the GW Parkway."

"Are you sure? Last week GW was backed up."

"I am positive, miss, you will be faster this way. The parkway, it turns into Washington."

"I just don't want to be late, if you can get there safely and quickly, take GW if you want to."

The driver lets out a half-impatient breath and turns froom N. Moore around past the Church Atop The Gas Station and heads toward the Iwo Jima and the Rt. 50/I-66 George Washington Parkway connect.

BOOM.
"Ay, Señor!" It seems sequential. Blink at the crunch screech sound. Then my neck stretches forward, barely convincing my head to stick with my torso while it starts, what the?!!? and time gets back on track.


"Are you okay?" I ask the driver, who's yet to say a word. He nods, snaps the belt, parks the brake and gets out to flay the cabdriver in the same colors who's rear-ended him, both in rapid-fire Urdu.
Ten minutes later they walk back and open my door.

"Miss? You are all right? Are you hurt? Do you need the hospital?"

It's 2:13 on May 31st, the day my insurance from Previous Job ends. I pray I'm okay, tell the driver to keep going or I'll be horifically late. They hang back as I, more than a bit hysterical, call my store.

my neck is sore. The driver isn't convinced, and tries to start the car toward the hospital. The engine refuses to turn over.

My store manager's voice is mercifully reassuring.
"Thank you for calling The Grocery Store in Alexandria, this is Lisette, how may I help you?"
Hey, Lisette, it's Twenny.
Hey Twenny, it's Lisette.

I'm supposed to be in at 2:30, but I'm in a cab and we've been rear ended on GW Parkway. I think I'm okay, but my neck is sore and I may have to go to the hospital.
I'm soo sorry, I dont' know if I'm going to make it on time.

You're on GW Parkway? in a cab? Rearended? Don't worry. Thanks for calling. Take the time you need, just call us back if you're not going to make it at all, okay?

Okay.

Okay, go get better!
Thanks Lisette. You rock.

Sigh.

I call my mother and ask her to pray. And then pray myself until the engine turns over.

****

In my InBox:
Hello, TwennyTwo!
Taraal Firaun has invited you to an event: Notorious Male Arabs Discussing Stuff.
To accept this FaceBook invitation... blah blah blah.

*phone rings*

"SalaamuAlaikumHey, Taraal, what's going on?"
"Who dis?"
"Yo MAMA, who you think it is? It's Twenny, are you at the NOMADS concert?"
"Oh, hey, Twenny, what up girl? Alaikum Salaam...Naw... I decided not to go."
"What?! You made a big deal and invited me, and now you're not going? Elle said you were going, that's why she's so upset she couldn't go."
"I know, but my brother didn't want to come, I wanted to go with him and Elle..."

pause

"I see."
"You should still go, though. I love their music, and it's supposed to be $15 at the door."
"Aiight, I'll check it out, keep your phone on."
"Aiight, peace."
"Salaamualaikum".

****
forks clink at the pad thai lunch.
I can't believe we only met in April. I'm so glad I went to MSA.

Same. I almost didn't go.

Me, too, mashaAllah. I thought it was going to be all about dating and stupid guys looking at girls.

Well, it wasn't. But remember that first couple of hours?

Yeah?

WE were all looking at guys, too! Hello! Wasn't it the first couple of hours that Elle and I ended up talking to guys without even meaning to?

Oh man. Yeah it was like that, huh?

Egypt isn't like that, huh?

No way. I miss it but I'm going to miss you guys.

Yeah, that's right, are you coming back?

I want to come back for Christmas break. (Leila and I wince)
What do you call it?

Winter break.

Yeah, I say winter break. I mean, since I don't celebrate Christmas...

Hmm, you know who else is going? You're going back, Namita is going, Mahmood is going, Elle is going...

You guys are going to have a party without us!

Hmm. Maybe we should meet up while we're there.

I think Twenny and I need to get tickets!

Eh.

Eh what Twenny?

Nothing. I think I need to get over the whole 'I need to get married' thing.

You know, Egypt is a big place...

Dude. I don't want to think about that too hard.

You know, I need to think about losing some weight. My mom is gonna look at me at the airport and put me on a diet.

I WISH my mama would look at me and put me on a diet. I hate controlling what I eat. That's why I love Ramadan.

Yeah? I always eat too much during Ramadan.

Makes my stomach shrink. I always end up losing 25 pounds.

Yeah, and it's getting hotter then, right?

Isn't it supposed to be late September this year? That's going to be warm.

I'm sweating already.

Wait until June July Ramadan. I've been trying to fast lately, and it ain't easy. It's not really even summer yet.

I know, right? I was born during Ramadan, apparently.

Your poor mom.

Well, she wasn't Muslim, right?

No. But are there extra blessings for that or something? To be born in the middle of a summer Ramadan? Or, shoot, being pregnant in the middle of the summer? Can I get some of that for her?

*laughter all around*

****
Getting to work part II
"Bonjour, thank you for calling The Grocery Store in Old Town Alexandria! This is Zeke TheBoyManager, what can I do for you today?"

Hey Zeke, it's Twenny.
Hey Twenny, what's goin' on.

I'm on the Metro. It's stuck at Pentagon City on a 30 minute delay.
How long?
Thirty flippin' minutes.

So you're going to be how late?

*sigh* I'll take a cab. I hope I'll only be 10 minutes late, but I doubt it, since everybody and their mama is trying to do the same thing.

Well it's Saturday and we're really busy.

I know. That's why I left an HOUR ahead of time, but apparently the Metro people have big ideas, doing track work on the busiest line on the biggest graduation and tourism weekend ever.

Get here when you can.

Okay, will do.

I squeaked in only 5 minutes and twenty dollars after I was supposed to. Zeke has my till ready and waiting and slips me into the rotation almost before Lisette can notice I'm late.

****
Walking back to my house from a successful teaching interview on the insanely close N. Moore street, wearing nice interviewing clothes and what's probably a distracted expression.

"Assalamu Alaikum"

I barely turn my head "Wa Alaikum Salaam" then think about it and turn to at least give a charitable smile to the brother who's greeted me.

The security guard is uniformed, spic-and-span right up to his hat, outside of the garage where the cars of the Pentagon workers laze all day while their owners either bark or follow orders in the buildings I see from my bedroom windows. I'd've mistaken him for a black man, like so many others who always try to holla on the Metro, the street, their cars, but...

"How are you today, sister?"
"I'm doing well, and yourself?"
"HamdulIllah. Sister, where are you from?"

Here we go. "I'm American!"
"American? From where?"
"Nam, inni Amrikiya, from Ohio, thanks."
"You look nice in higaab."

I flash back to Reea and laugh. I'm not mad at his look, subtle and yet definitely appreciative.

"You're from Egypt, right?"

****

"You've reached five one three, seven seven seven, ninety-three, eleven. Please leave a message after the tone. BEEP!"
Hi, I just wanted to say h--

Twenny, don't hang up, baby.

Hi Mommy!

Hi Baby! How are you! It's good to hear your voice.

I'm okay.

That's good. Pray for your brother. He's really frustrated right now, since I had to drive him to work today out in what your father calls EastWestJesus. He needs a car.

(we both crack up)
Mama! It can't be that far! Is it? Is it out past Kings Island?

It's further than that- I said East West Jesus! Past Mason, all those folks. And you know your brother, he wants what he wants right this second.

I know. It's hard being like that, I can relate though I'm not that impatient. It's hard not having what you need. I'll talk to him.

So how's the job search?

Looks like I'm going to get the ESL job, but they're going to hire me as an independent contractor.

Oops, I don't like the sound of that. Next.

Well, wait!

Okay, I'm listening.

The first three monthly are considered probation. After that I get to join the staff with a W-2. T And it is right near my house, and I won't have to quit at Grocery Store, so I can get their benefits and still have fun while I work SOMEwhere.

*sigh* Okay... Did you get the email I forwarded from your father? He's always thinking about you all. There's a job that would be perfect for you, in recruiting.

Yes, I just haven't had a time to open it. Comcast is trying to cut our internet, and my roomie's computer hasn't been connecting. I go to Kinko's next to my job, but it's expensive.

Why don't you ask your Aunt to use hers?

I dont' have the time. I work at night.... and to tell the truth, I just really want my own. I'm really feeling baby bro right now. Cars and computers are expensive yet necessary and personal electronics, and it's hard dealing without your own to do with as you please.

I hear you. I'll send you some money...

No. No, Mommy, I don't want to ask you for money. I'm just saying it's hard is all. That's why I'll be working two jobs again. I can get it if I work hard enough, right? Just... keep sending the job applications, I'll make it work. Can we talk about that?

...The thing about this job is that it's here. You wouldn't have to see your father and me all the time, though. Your sister and brother are here and we don't see them all that much.

Mommy, my problem with your house isn't YOU. If y'all moved here I'd be a happy chick. My problem with Cincinnati is the city itself. I feel so stuck. As much as I complain about taking hours to get to work here when it takes 15 minutes in a car, at least I have that option. I don't want to end up like JW, all frustrated, with no cultural options.... I'll fill out that application, though. It does sound like me.

****
(at the Grocery Store, one of my co-workers has returned after an absence.)
"Hey twennyGirl, wah'ya'doin'? Y'work tomorroah?"

"Hey Timo, nope, no work for me! I'll be preparing for this class I have to teach starting next week though, that or sleeping."

"Den I wanna see ya at the reggae club, yah, nonna dis Ah Gotta Work, nonna dis sleepin'."

"Um... I dunno, Timo. I want to go, it sounds cool, but..."

"It doan' go long. Start 'bout 10, I never stay past 11:30."

"I'll think about it."

Timoteo... now there's something I'll get into later. Last night I watched 10:00 come and go. I wish I could say that I didn't regret it, but it gets back to that one theme...

peace
TwennyTwo

say anything.

I. Hate. Lesson. Plans. Hate'emhate'mhate'm.

There, got that outta my system.

Nilda G. called me today saying she found an apt. for me that cost $50 less per month than my current one, and it's already fully furnished. I could tell when she called I wasn't as enthused as she'd hoped, but I'm not so sure I want to move. Yes, with the savings I'd get in utilities it's more like $125 less a month, but now I'm used to the antique house. I've had to endure the bad and I've found out the good. And I'm one of those people who HATE packing. I'd travel the world, and pay someone else to pack for me.

On the other hand, it's made of concrete; entonces, no termites. And hot water. Insha'Allah I'm going to go see the apt this week, stay tuned.

I'm the most liberal and unorthodox practicing Muslim out there, and yet I'm probably the only one most of the people I know here will ever meet. Wild. At least I've broadened some horizons, fa'sho.

I didn't get the chance to say it earlier since certain people interrupted my train of thought, but I am SO SAD that Sex and THe City is almost gone!! And did you see yesterday? Ooh what if Big brings her back for the very end? Awww man, no more new episodes. I can't believe it. I bonded with half of VELMMSK over that show...no, wait, it was the Sopranos. That and Domino's chickenwings with breadsticks. We went around going, "Where's Pussy???!!!", which is the funniest sentence, in context or out. In the basement of ...um, that dorm that I can't remember the name of just now.

Guthridge (thanks to sr. alvarez. :-D ), the dorm is da Gut.

I gotta get outta this house, I'm going nuts.

Yay, back to the misbehaving kids at 7AM tomorrow.


It is really sad when returning to some hard-headed rude children is the highlight of a four day weekend. I really have to get my car soon. Like NOW.

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.