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
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Friday, January 01, 2010
Sunday, November 29, 2009
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
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
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
'I want to play by my ownself'
Assalamu Alaikum,
Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Subahallah wa bihamdihi, I enjoy and appreciate my job.
But the last couple weeks got a little hairy, let me tell you. And although the children can be (rarely) trying, no, it is most always an adult who is really working my nerves. I'm looking at you, morning-assistant-who-needs-instruction-as-much-as-any-student.
So, today was bliss. I got to work all by my lonesome.
If you're looking from the outside, it doesn't look like I did much. But for me it was INTEGRAL. My boss and several others have been making comments behind my back about my Achilles' heel: organization. Nevermind that they're pretty happy about how their children are treated and how they learn; nor that they won't bring themselves to say what they say behind my back to my face.
I'm far from the most organized person in the school.
I'm not denying that; I'm working on it. What's annoying is that a) I INHERITED a mess from the several teachers who worked before I did, since the last teacher was tossed out/ left precipitously (depending on who's telling the story) less than a month before I was hired. And she wasn't allowed back into the school to get her things. But that's not my story to tell. The annoying part about that is that I came into a mess and I'm good at tolerating mess and bad at organizing.
b) I TOLD my boss before he hired me that organization was my Achilles' heel. Famous last words.
So instead of listening to whining about the state of my room, today I got to spend time by myself, in my room, going through the files in the room, finding out what exactly is in there, throwing out old stuff. It felt good, to just DO what I needed to do without hearing the peanut gallery, you know? It reminded me of one of my favorite students, who loved to explain to me, "I just want to play by my ownself, Miss Two." Very matter of fact.
So that was good.
But then. Ah, then.
After chilling at the house of my wali, (good news), then praying maghrib-sunnah salah at the masjid (even better news there, which will also wait), I came home to the house, glad to see my parents after they took a trip south to see my aunts and grandfather.
Annnnnnd here is where I ask for dua'a, because JW is relapsing. He's losing it again. I won't go into details, but 2 minutes after I entered the house and my parents clued me in to what was going on, the phone rang...
...and it was the police.
Long story short, alhamdulillah JW is okay and not in custody or anything like that, but only because my parents kept him out. He's refusing to take his medicine. And I... I'm not despairing... but... to have the realization over and over again that this incredibly smart, bright, capable man, my little brother, is not right... hurts. It's bewhildering. Something you never in your wildest imagination think is possible, happens, and, yeah, it throws me for a loop.
... inshaAllah he'll be okay. He's talking about taking a gamble, moving to a city on the other side of the country, maxing out his credit cards, and just living there.
What do you say to that? It'd be fine, except that he isn't right in the head. This is not normal twenny-something stuff, this is insanity. I do not want JW to end up anything but happy, clean, healthy...
I dunno.
I need to go play by my ownself. I've already asked so many people to pray, to sincerely put this before Allah swt, and that was before tonight. I'm doing it still, because, wow. I thought work was pushing me... this is so much bigger. Only God knows what will happen, and only God can fix things ultimately.
I'm off to bed.
masalaama
Twenny
Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Subahallah wa bihamdihi, I enjoy and appreciate my job.
But the last couple weeks got a little hairy, let me tell you. And although the children can be (rarely) trying, no, it is most always an adult who is really working my nerves. I'm looking at you, morning-assistant-who-needs-instruction-as-much-as-any-student.
So, today was bliss. I got to work all by my lonesome.
If you're looking from the outside, it doesn't look like I did much. But for me it was INTEGRAL. My boss and several others have been making comments behind my back about my Achilles' heel: organization. Nevermind that they're pretty happy about how their children are treated and how they learn; nor that they won't bring themselves to say what they say behind my back to my face.
I'm far from the most organized person in the school.
I'm not denying that; I'm working on it. What's annoying is that a) I INHERITED a mess from the several teachers who worked before I did, since the last teacher was tossed out/ left precipitously (depending on who's telling the story) less than a month before I was hired. And she wasn't allowed back into the school to get her things. But that's not my story to tell. The annoying part about that is that I came into a mess and I'm good at tolerating mess and bad at organizing.
b) I TOLD my boss before he hired me that organization was my Achilles' heel. Famous last words.
So instead of listening to whining about the state of my room, today I got to spend time by myself, in my room, going through the files in the room, finding out what exactly is in there, throwing out old stuff. It felt good, to just DO what I needed to do without hearing the peanut gallery, you know? It reminded me of one of my favorite students, who loved to explain to me, "I just want to play by my ownself, Miss Two." Very matter of fact.
So that was good.
But then. Ah, then.
After chilling at the house of my wali, (good news), then praying maghrib-sunnah salah at the masjid (even better news there, which will also wait), I came home to the house, glad to see my parents after they took a trip south to see my aunts and grandfather.
Annnnnnd here is where I ask for dua'a, because JW is relapsing. He's losing it again. I won't go into details, but 2 minutes after I entered the house and my parents clued me in to what was going on, the phone rang...
...and it was the police.
Long story short, alhamdulillah JW is okay and not in custody or anything like that, but only because my parents kept him out. He's refusing to take his medicine. And I... I'm not despairing... but... to have the realization over and over again that this incredibly smart, bright, capable man, my little brother, is not right... hurts. It's bewhildering. Something you never in your wildest imagination think is possible, happens, and, yeah, it throws me for a loop.
... inshaAllah he'll be okay. He's talking about taking a gamble, moving to a city on the other side of the country, maxing out his credit cards, and just living there.
What do you say to that? It'd be fine, except that he isn't right in the head. This is not normal twenny-something stuff, this is insanity. I do not want JW to end up anything but happy, clean, healthy...
I dunno.
I need to go play by my ownself. I've already asked so many people to pray, to sincerely put this before Allah swt, and that was before tonight. I'm doing it still, because, wow. I thought work was pushing me... this is so much bigger. Only God knows what will happen, and only God can fix things ultimately.
I'm off to bed.
masalaama
Twenny
Monday, November 03, 2008
Prayer contemplatioGn etc
Assalamu Alaikum,
Today started out well and ended regrettably. I'm glad I remembrered to blog about it. Yay- 3 days in a row for NaBloPoMo! Let's see how far I go.
Here's my reminder that came of the more stressful things in my day:
1. Males as well as females need to be educated on pregnancy and the choices that lead to and through it. I cannot say more but um just REALLY take that one heavily, okay?
2. Everybody go write a will right now. This is sunnah. Many of the companions of the Prophet, may Allah grant them peace, would go and deliberately take care of their affairs before they went into battle, as the Prophet (saws) directed. In his last days, the Prophet himself went to the masjid and asked if anyone still had a debt upon him.
Write a will and tell SEVERAL people you'd trust with your life about where it is adn the provisions in it. This goes DOUBLY if you have descendants, I don't care if they are of age or not. You need to tell someone how you want your remains disposed, you need to say what should happen to any inheritance you should leave behind, you need to designate your charity portions, you need to HAVE YOUR DEBTS PAID OFF. My friends, when I heard the lesson about how one is not supposed to be buried until his debts are paid, and how if he is then he feels the torture of the grave and the person who has the debt will still have that right over him on the day of judgment, please believe I was chilled.
I don't want to go into the conversation that led to this statement, but know that I have bugged and will continue to bother my halqa leaders until they give us an Islamic will-writing conference; meanwhile I have drawn up papers detailing who and how my remains and any funds (ha!) I leave will be distributed. I'm living for tomorrow, but in cas eI don't live THROUGH tomorrow I'm straight... inshaALlah.
3. Friends who don't let friends unwillingly stay single ROCK.
heh heh- on that note I'm publishing before the day is over!
peace
TwennyTwo
Today started out well and ended regrettably. I'm glad I remembrered to blog about it. Yay- 3 days in a row for NaBloPoMo! Let's see how far I go.
Here's my reminder that came of the more stressful things in my day:
1. Males as well as females need to be educated on pregnancy and the choices that lead to and through it. I cannot say more but um just REALLY take that one heavily, okay?
2. Everybody go write a will right now. This is sunnah. Many of the companions of the Prophet, may Allah grant them peace, would go and deliberately take care of their affairs before they went into battle, as the Prophet (saws) directed. In his last days, the Prophet himself went to the masjid and asked if anyone still had a debt upon him.
Write a will and tell SEVERAL people you'd trust with your life about where it is adn the provisions in it. This goes DOUBLY if you have descendants, I don't care if they are of age or not. You need to tell someone how you want your remains disposed, you need to say what should happen to any inheritance you should leave behind, you need to designate your charity portions, you need to HAVE YOUR DEBTS PAID OFF. My friends, when I heard the lesson about how one is not supposed to be buried until his debts are paid, and how if he is then he feels the torture of the grave and the person who has the debt will still have that right over him on the day of judgment, please believe I was chilled.
I don't want to go into the conversation that led to this statement, but know that I have bugged and will continue to bother my halqa leaders until they give us an Islamic will-writing conference; meanwhile I have drawn up papers detailing who and how my remains and any funds (ha!) I leave will be distributed. I'm living for tomorrow, but in cas eI don't live THROUGH tomorrow I'm straight... inshaALlah.
3. Friends who don't let friends unwillingly stay single ROCK.
heh heh- on that note I'm publishing before the day is over!
peace
TwennyTwo
Monday, May 26, 2008
just. don't. stop.
assalamu alaikum,
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.
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
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
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
InshaAllah, part II
assalamu alaikum,
Okay... so I had said, Ah, well. Marya wouldn't make it to halaqa. It's always a good time learning sooo much mashaAllah.
Still, y'all know I was not trying to miss halaqa on Sunday! I wanted to see if Farhan would make it a record-breaking 3 in a row.
And there I was, laid up with a fever. Feeling TERRIBLE.
So I made dua'a, something akin to, "Please send me down the path You choose, for Your sake.If I need to go, show me how. If I don't, make that the better way to me, amin."
My doctor and my sister had already fussed at me that I didn't need to be out of bed, and I didn't really want to go. I was feeling that bad.
But I didn't want to miss anything good, either. I finally had the new book we're reading at halaqa... and I was starting to be crush-a-licious, all right. Maybe this was a way of telling me to sit my butt down somewhere and chill out. It has happened before.
My fever came down a bit. And then I got up, went into my brother JW's room, and woke him up. "Come with me," I said, "In case I need you to drive because I don't feel good. It's just a movie with lunch at Bro. Leader's house, not the hardcore halaqa like usual." I'd've never been tempted to ask him before, but because he knew I'd been ill...
But JW has been stuck in ahem atheist opinion for some time now. He doesn't like "dealing with religious people", as he puts it; "God is a control mechanism." I've been trying to get him to talk to Bro. Leader or Nerd for a while and he always resists. I thought maybe he'd just enjoy the movie and being around young people. And maybe I really would let him drive the Pimp Car (tm) if I felt really really sick.
This time he got up, took a shower, and came with.
So, yay! I was feeling a bit better, and going to an easy halaqa, and JW was with me.
When we got there, the halaqa was watching an Ahmed Deedat movie, and he's slaying the guest speaker over "Cruci-FICTION" (I actually recommend finding that DVD if you can. It was great. Watching the Christian pastor skate around direct points presented to him every time he spoke. We laughed several times during what could've been a serious, heavy debate). We sat down, and I looked around...Marya hadn't made it. But lo and behold, sitting with the other brothers, Farhan was there.
At least now I know I wasn't imagining this, because when we got in the car for the first time, JW told me that he knew Farhan was the guy who kept looking at me (I told him to watch on that and see if I was trippin'). And he is like a hawk when it comes to his big sisters. Hmph.
Yes, I did say when we got into the car for the first time. Way to pay attention, you!
Okay, so Farhan and company left early because there was a basketball tournament at the masjid in Conservopolis they didn't want to miss. One of the sisters, the one who said, "You guys look JUST alike, that's amazing" pulled me aside and asked, "Is he (JW) muslim?" And I whispered back, "Not yet! I just want him to get used to the ideas here." Something inspired hope for the day.
JW and I left after the movie was finished. And as we leave, we're chatting, and JW begins with, "I still don't see how you can prove God is real." Ack! And just after we left the halaqa! I tried, I really did, to point out the signs of nature, and the reasons why I believed personally, but then I said, "Wait. I'm not equipped to really really answer your questions, because I don't know enough. But I bet Brother Leader can."
JW proceeded to protest. He doesn't really like to ask 'religious people' these questions. And Brother Leader probably didn't want to deal with him. I countered with the fact that he seemed perfectly fine with letting JW into his house without knowing him. Then I pulled out my phone. "I'm calling him," I said.
So we turned around, after Bro. Leader invited us back to his place to talk things out. I stuck around to hear the beginning of the discussion, about why the universe has to have God in order to hold it together. And the complexity of a single strand of DNA, much less any organized being. And how could any of the things we know come to be without a creator. They were off. Good grief, I'm glad I called Bro. Leader, because he's one of the few that could even keep up with JW's mind.
And then I grabbed (an excellent cup of) tea, and then sacked out on the really comfy couch in the formal-ish living room of their house while the kids played badminton in front of me. I was burning up again, so I took some meds, even as I was so excited. Maybe this would be the day my brother took shahada. I drifted off and one of Bro. Leader's awesome daughters covered me with a blanket and they tip-toed out of the room.
This is real life, and there's no ecstatically happy ending. JW didn't make shahada by the time I awakened... but I'm really praying on it. Maybe he will. I know that he and Bro. Leader talked that second time for a good three hours. JW has a lot to think about.
I know I ended up thinking about several things on the way home in the car, saying, "InshaAllah... inshaAllah..." Only if He Wills it. Regardless, I know I'm okay only with that.
peace,
Twenny Two
Okay... so I had said, Ah, well. Marya wouldn't make it to halaqa. It's always a good time learning sooo much mashaAllah.
Still, y'all know I was not trying to miss halaqa on Sunday! I wanted to see if Farhan would make it a record-breaking 3 in a row.
And there I was, laid up with a fever. Feeling TERRIBLE.
So I made dua'a, something akin to, "Please send me down the path You choose, for Your sake.If I need to go, show me how. If I don't, make that the better way to me, amin."
My doctor and my sister had already fussed at me that I didn't need to be out of bed, and I didn't really want to go. I was feeling that bad.
But I didn't want to miss anything good, either. I finally had the new book we're reading at halaqa... and I was starting to be crush-a-licious, all right. Maybe this was a way of telling me to sit my butt down somewhere and chill out. It has happened before.
My fever came down a bit. And then I got up, went into my brother JW's room, and woke him up. "Come with me," I said, "In case I need you to drive because I don't feel good. It's just a movie with lunch at Bro. Leader's house, not the hardcore halaqa like usual." I'd've never been tempted to ask him before, but because he knew I'd been ill...
But JW has been stuck in ahem atheist opinion for some time now. He doesn't like "dealing with religious people", as he puts it; "God is a control mechanism." I've been trying to get him to talk to Bro. Leader or Nerd for a while and he always resists. I thought maybe he'd just enjoy the movie and being around young people. And maybe I really would let him drive the Pimp Car (tm) if I felt really really sick.
This time he got up, took a shower, and came with.
So, yay! I was feeling a bit better, and going to an easy halaqa, and JW was with me.
When we got there, the halaqa was watching an Ahmed Deedat movie, and he's slaying the guest speaker over "Cruci-FICTION" (I actually recommend finding that DVD if you can. It was great. Watching the Christian pastor skate around direct points presented to him every time he spoke. We laughed several times during what could've been a serious, heavy debate). We sat down, and I looked around...Marya hadn't made it. But lo and behold, sitting with the other brothers, Farhan was there.
I don't mean to blow this out of proportion, y'all. Everyone was focused on the movie and what we were supposed to be studying. It's not that I was exchanging burning glances with Farhan across the room. No. It was on the halal. I mean, my little brother and his little brothers were there, with about 7 other people. Including Bro. Leader, who is very very strict about interactions. Nah, it's just that this is very exciting for me. And he Kept Looking At Me. *grin*
At least now I know I wasn't imagining this, because when we got in the car for the first time, JW told me that he knew Farhan was the guy who kept looking at me (I told him to watch on that and see if I was trippin'). And he is like a hawk when it comes to his big sisters. Hmph.
Yes, I did say when we got into the car for the first time. Way to pay attention, you!
Okay, so Farhan and company left early because there was a basketball tournament at the masjid in Conservopolis they didn't want to miss. One of the sisters, the one who said, "You guys look JUST alike, that's amazing" pulled me aside and asked, "Is he (JW) muslim?" And I whispered back, "Not yet! I just want him to get used to the ideas here." Something inspired hope for the day.
JW and I left after the movie was finished. And as we leave, we're chatting, and JW begins with, "I still don't see how you can prove God is real." Ack! And just after we left the halaqa! I tried, I really did, to point out the signs of nature, and the reasons why I believed personally, but then I said, "Wait. I'm not equipped to really really answer your questions, because I don't know enough. But I bet Brother Leader can."
JW proceeded to protest. He doesn't really like to ask 'religious people' these questions. And Brother Leader probably didn't want to deal with him. I countered with the fact that he seemed perfectly fine with letting JW into his house without knowing him. Then I pulled out my phone. "I'm calling him," I said.
So we turned around, after Bro. Leader invited us back to his place to talk things out. I stuck around to hear the beginning of the discussion, about why the universe has to have God in order to hold it together. And the complexity of a single strand of DNA, much less any organized being. And how could any of the things we know come to be without a creator. They were off. Good grief, I'm glad I called Bro. Leader, because he's one of the few that could even keep up with JW's mind.
And then I grabbed (an excellent cup of) tea, and then sacked out on the really comfy couch in the formal-ish living room of their house while the kids played badminton in front of me. I was burning up again, so I took some meds, even as I was so excited. Maybe this would be the day my brother took shahada. I drifted off and one of Bro. Leader's awesome daughters covered me with a blanket and they tip-toed out of the room.
This is real life, and there's no ecstatically happy ending. JW didn't make shahada by the time I awakened... but I'm really praying on it. Maybe he will. I know that he and Bro. Leader talked that second time for a good three hours. JW has a lot to think about.
I know I ended up thinking about several things on the way home in the car, saying, "InshaAllah... inshaAllah..." Only if He Wills it. Regardless, I know I'm okay only with that.
peace,
Twenny Two
Monday, February 11, 2008
Off again
assalamu alaikum,
I had the most horrifying, terrifying, distressing conversation with my brother JW yesterday.
Apparently he is off his meds. And suicidal. And extremely depressed.
Please pray. For his sanity and health. For mine. For my entire family.
It's extremely stressful to know that I feel behind and inadequate at work and to be the one my brother wants to help 'prop' him mentally.
Yesterday was a great day of tutoring for me- until I was talking to JW at one point on my cell phone while driving (which I detest doing- driving on the cell, I mean) the most narrow hair-raisingly constructed highway in the region in the huge Pimp Car (tm) hearing him tell me, after I told him quite forcefully that suicide is not an option and we'll help him work this out, "I wasn't actually asking for permission."
Okay, so what were you doing, giving me notice?!
My response:
"Good, because you aren't getting it!"
Just, please, pray. I need a mental health day and I don't have one. I need reinforcement. Dua'a requested.
peace
TwennyTwo
I had the most horrifying, terrifying, distressing conversation with my brother JW yesterday.
Apparently he is off his meds. And suicidal. And extremely depressed.
Please pray. For his sanity and health. For mine. For my entire family.
It's extremely stressful to know that I feel behind and inadequate at work and to be the one my brother wants to help 'prop' him mentally.
Yesterday was a great day of tutoring for me- until I was talking to JW at one point on my cell phone while driving (which I detest doing- driving on the cell, I mean) the most narrow hair-raisingly constructed highway in the region in the huge Pimp Car (tm) hearing him tell me, after I told him quite forcefully that suicide is not an option and we'll help him work this out, "I wasn't actually asking for permission."
Okay, so what were you doing, giving me notice?!
My response:
"Good, because you aren't getting it!"
Just, please, pray. I need a mental health day and I don't have one. I need reinforcement. Dua'a requested.
peace
TwennyTwo
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Shock.
assalamu alaikum,
Alhamdulillah, my brother may leave the hospital some time today.
This is wonderful news and I'll be making dua'a for it to actually happen.
But.
Other shocking news: My baby cousin (barely 4 months) is dead and his older sister (also a toddler) was operated on last night. Apparently both were beaten by their caregiver while their mother, my cousin, was at work.
I am in shock. I cannot understand this. I do not. Audhu billah. I'm a zombie because I don't get it. Why? Why? Hurt a child that cannot speak? Hurt a bright innocent baby who brings joy to everyone she knows? Why? Why? Ya rabb...
The man is in custody and had better stay there, as the kids grandfather, my uncle, is understandably beyond furious. And more than half of that particular county (not in Conservopolis) is related to our family.
Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un.
Please pray for us all.
Alhamdulillah, my brother may leave the hospital some time today.
This is wonderful news and I'll be making dua'a for it to actually happen.
But.
Other shocking news: My baby cousin (barely 4 months) is dead and his older sister (also a toddler) was operated on last night. Apparently both were beaten by their caregiver while their mother, my cousin, was at work.
I am in shock. I cannot understand this. I do not. Audhu billah. I'm a zombie because I don't get it. Why? Why? Hurt a child that cannot speak? Hurt a bright innocent baby who brings joy to everyone she knows? Why? Why? Ya rabb...
The man is in custody and had better stay there, as the kids grandfather, my uncle, is understandably beyond furious. And more than half of that particular county (not in Conservopolis) is related to our family.
Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un.
Please pray for us all.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Lost his ever-loving mind
assalamu alaikum
I've been gone for a while. I know. I've thought about this place like every day. We've really been going through it, so I'm asking for dua'a. Long story short, my brother JW (I've mentioned him here in passing) is in the hospital about an hour north of Conservopolis. He's been there for more than two weeks; he was sent directly from his campus by his counselors and a favorite professor. He's very ill.
It is terrifying and horrifying to see. My brother is losing it. He's been diagnosed with a mental illness. Audhu billah.
It tears at my heart every time we've gone to see him (of the four of us close to him, one of us has been up to see him every day). It's clear that something is wrong. Please make dua'a and pray for his recovery.
JW is a national-class musician, with an amazingly quick mind. I've always said he was the brightest of all of us, even if his grades did not reflect all of that. Yesterday, alhamdulIllah, was the best day of all those he's been there- it was like seeing him again. Because at the first visit... his eyes were wild, and bloodshot. He was stopping to pause and detect the messages that were being transmitted through the hospital television monitor. He kept telling us that people were coming to kill him.
He meant it.
My family was okay before this and inshaAllah we'll be okay afterward. If different. As hard as it will be to pay for treatment, at least we live where there's an option. And thank God someone at that school noticed that something was wrong. I don't know how he'd have made it another three weeks at university without help. By the time they put him in he was clearly... sick.
I know I'm different. I hear myself when I say the word 'crazy' to mean 'weird or out of whack'. I remembered several times how I said the word 'shizo' to mean crazy in front of my friend, S. and how she reproached me. I know what she felt, now. I think the worry is the worst. But I'm ashamed of a lot of my internal reactions to all of this. I cringe at my reaction when I don't want to take the two hour round trip to the hospital after having worked all day. Last Monday I just took a day off and cleaned my mother's house (a bit. It needs like another two days. I just can't take them. Sigh.) instead of going to school like my life is normal and okay.
And since my parents worry whenever I miss a day of work ( like the 2 days my doctora demanded when I had the flu and strep at the same time= yay preschool) I neglected to inform them that I did so. I'm getting to the point where when I actually make a decision instead of dithering I'm extremely disinclined to defend or argue about it. I'd been letting some things slide and I realized that if JW isn't doing so well, I have to step up my game. I don't get the option of being depressed myself. I'd been slowly dissolving myself, letting certain things go, and I know that midwinter is never my best time. I know it was happening, and I was trying to get a hold of myself- and then JW was hospitalized. I got some issues to get out so I'll be blogging by hook or crook soon. I just hope I don't get called out, because the resulting meltdown would not be pretty. I'm glad my sister is here. She's my lifeline right now, as I am hers.
Yeah.
Oh, DP, I saw your comment and will be answering later, inshaAllah. Sisters, brothers, other friends inside the computer, if you read me, please comment. I like my friends inside the internet to be as vocal as I am in real life. And being alone is not what's up right now. Get at me...
peace
TwennyTwo
I've been gone for a while. I know. I've thought about this place like every day. We've really been going through it, so I'm asking for dua'a. Long story short, my brother JW (I've mentioned him here in passing) is in the hospital about an hour north of Conservopolis. He's been there for more than two weeks; he was sent directly from his campus by his counselors and a favorite professor. He's very ill.
It is terrifying and horrifying to see. My brother is losing it. He's been diagnosed with a mental illness. Audhu billah.
It tears at my heart every time we've gone to see him (of the four of us close to him, one of us has been up to see him every day). It's clear that something is wrong. Please make dua'a and pray for his recovery.
JW is a national-class musician, with an amazingly quick mind. I've always said he was the brightest of all of us, even if his grades did not reflect all of that. Yesterday, alhamdulIllah, was the best day of all those he's been there- it was like seeing him again. Because at the first visit... his eyes were wild, and bloodshot. He was stopping to pause and detect the messages that were being transmitted through the hospital television monitor. He kept telling us that people were coming to kill him.
He meant it.
My family was okay before this and inshaAllah we'll be okay afterward. If different. As hard as it will be to pay for treatment, at least we live where there's an option. And thank God someone at that school noticed that something was wrong. I don't know how he'd have made it another three weeks at university without help. By the time they put him in he was clearly... sick.
I know I'm different. I hear myself when I say the word 'crazy' to mean 'weird or out of whack'. I remembered several times how I said the word 'shizo' to mean crazy in front of my friend, S. and how she reproached me. I know what she felt, now. I think the worry is the worst. But I'm ashamed of a lot of my internal reactions to all of this. I cringe at my reaction when I don't want to take the two hour round trip to the hospital after having worked all day. Last Monday I just took a day off and cleaned my mother's house (a bit. It needs like another two days. I just can't take them. Sigh.) instead of going to school like my life is normal and okay.
And since my parents worry whenever I miss a day of work ( like the 2 days my doctora demanded when I had the flu and strep at the same time= yay preschool) I neglected to inform them that I did so. I'm getting to the point where when I actually make a decision instead of dithering I'm extremely disinclined to defend or argue about it. I'd been letting some things slide and I realized that if JW isn't doing so well, I have to step up my game. I don't get the option of being depressed myself. I'd been slowly dissolving myself, letting certain things go, and I know that midwinter is never my best time. I know it was happening, and I was trying to get a hold of myself- and then JW was hospitalized. I got some issues to get out so I'll be blogging by hook or crook soon. I just hope I don't get called out, because the resulting meltdown would not be pretty. I'm glad my sister is here. She's my lifeline right now, as I am hers.
Yeah.
Oh, DP, I saw your comment and will be answering later, inshaAllah. Sisters, brothers, other friends inside the computer, if you read me, please comment. I like my friends inside the internet to be as vocal as I am in real life. And being alone is not what's up right now. Get at me...
peace
TwennyTwo
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Ramadan Mubarak- Guess I got some catchin' up t'do
peace,
Okayyyy... tis late. I love Ramadan! I missed it! I waited all year for it! And now it feels like work, isn't that funny? I've been reading everyone, just no time for my own piece.
First of all, I have to say that this lil'ol ball of ardh is really really small. I was invited to an iftar at the home of the in-laws of one of my co-workers. Turns out that one of the women there knows Umm Zaid. TINY TINY SMALL WORLD. I couldn't believe it. SO that was cool.
Second, it's unimaginably harder and yet easier living with my parents. Like, easier, in that if I ask for things I can get them. As in, if I don't want to cook for iftar, my mama will cook for me (and that is mad cool after being up and working since before fajr, y'all). But also? I have this hugely hard painful knot of tension in my back from an off-hand remark someone made this morning. *sigh* Allahu Alim. I am here for a reason and I REFUSE TO COMPLAIN further. Y'all tell me if you catch me complaining, I mean it.
Third: I am in love with teaching pre-school, which is good. The re-learning I have to do is gi-normous, but the rewards are great. I mean, I get to teach kids dua'a! I get to teach them to blow their noses! I get to teach them that people have spit, not spitted. And then when I'm tired of teaching come the sweet ones under my guard. I get to pick them up. I get to give hugs and reassure them that everything is okay. I get the one who says, so softly... "Miss Two? Miss Two? Miss Two?" ... "Yes, hon? What is it?" "I love you, Miss Two."
Dude, do I deserve this?
Regardless, I'm here.
ma salaama, peace
oh yeah. PS. Please make dua'a, as I am making istikhara to buy a car. By Friday inshaAllah.
peace
Okayyyy... tis late. I love Ramadan! I missed it! I waited all year for it! And now it feels like work, isn't that funny? I've been reading everyone, just no time for my own piece.
First of all, I have to say that this lil'ol ball of ardh is really really small. I was invited to an iftar at the home of the in-laws of one of my co-workers. Turns out that one of the women there knows Umm Zaid. TINY TINY SMALL WORLD. I couldn't believe it. SO that was cool.
Second, it's unimaginably harder and yet easier living with my parents. Like, easier, in that if I ask for things I can get them. As in, if I don't want to cook for iftar, my mama will cook for me (and that is mad cool after being up and working since before fajr, y'all). But also? I have this hugely hard painful knot of tension in my back from an off-hand remark someone made this morning. *sigh* Allahu Alim. I am here for a reason and I REFUSE TO COMPLAIN further. Y'all tell me if you catch me complaining, I mean it.
Third: I am in love with teaching pre-school, which is good. The re-learning I have to do is gi-normous, but the rewards are great. I mean, I get to teach kids dua'a! I get to teach them to blow their noses! I get to teach them that people have spit, not spitted. And then when I'm tired of teaching come the sweet ones under my guard. I get to pick them up. I get to give hugs and reassure them that everything is okay. I get the one who says, so softly... "Miss Two? Miss Two? Miss Two?" ... "Yes, hon? What is it?" "I love you, Miss Two."
Dude, do I deserve this?
Regardless, I'm here.
ma salaama, peace
oh yeah. PS. Please make dua'a, as I am making istikhara to buy a car. By Friday inshaAllah.
peace
Thursday, July 12, 2007
What's with the fifth degree from Saudi? - and other questions
peace,
It's going to be a looooong weekend.
I'm riding down to my parents' birthplace with my Aunt C. inshaAllah. I actually don't anticipate drama. I think Allah is testing me with this one. I think patience and love will be key. I also plan to enjoy my time with my cousins, especially the one whose birthday is Monday. She's also the youngest and smartest and most sensitive of the bunch, and I miss her. The rest of the time I'll be reading or sleeping- I doubt Aunt C. would unbend enough for me to help them drive, and it's between 9 and 12 hours driving. Which means I'm headed out of here soon. Praying for mercy the entire way.
D. moved to Syracuse, to start his master's studies bootcamp for journalists. I'm definitely going to miss D's presence. I think what confused me so about him is the fact that he's a one in a million friend; one that makes me feel confident, smart, and safe at the same time. I finally figured out that while he's not my future husband, the one for me will have those same qualities times about a hundred and BE MUSLIM. So there. Question resolved. He's enjoying his time in bootcamp and I'm glad; that's something he's wanted to do for a very long time, and I'm glad he's happy with that choice. I also know that that's the end of an era, since I most likely won't be in DC by the time he finishes his studies.
Speaking of DC, yesterday I took my accent seminar students for a field trip to the Capitol and the House Gallery. I think the trip itself went pretty well; But I've got some serious questions. If the congresspeople and the Capitol are supposed to be freely accessible to the people, then why do you have to have separate passes to get to the House galleries, Senate galleries, and the Rotunda? Why do you have to have a Capitol staffer with you to see all three at the same time? One red-shirted guide nearly ticked me off by quite loudly explaining that I didn't have the right pass for the rotunda. I let my students see it anyway (this is MY government, too!), and they snapped photos before the red-shirt controlfreak used a walkie talkie to call a Capitol guard to escort us away. Humph.
And, oh, yeah, we got to see the vote on the bill to support education and decrease in student loan debt. Steve Chabot, I am severely disappointed in you! How dare you vote no on a bill that would help so many of your constituents in Cincinnati to excape from the burdens placed in front of higher ed in this country! One of only 5 who did so as well. I'll be writing a formal letter. So yeah, it was def cool to see my past and present representatives on the floor. When the vote was first called, the floor was empty. My students asked, "Is this it?" and wondered exactly how many people would get to vote... and then they started trickling in. I personally found it fun to see how they were dressed, who they talked to, and how they made the vote- they took these little cards and placed them into a slot, then pushed the button to make their choice; at the end they were asked if they wanted to change their vote, I guess to prevent mistakes. One rep was awesome- she wore a white jacket, black skirt, had her hair elaborately braded into a crown, and a long flowing red scarf over her shoulder. I remember thinking that'd be a killer hijab. It was a thrill to see John Conyers and Charlie Dingel as well as Ambassador Wilson, too. Very cool. I hadn't seen that scene since I left my lobby position my sophomore year.
And then I returned to the school to teach my night class. I met two very nice sisters named Samiya and Fatema, from Jubeid (sp?) in Saudi. They proceeded to ask me fiftyleven questions: Oh, you're Muslim? Where are you from? And your family? No, I mean, are your whole family Muslim? Do you speak Arabic? Oh, so that's what you know? How did you come to Islam?
That last one... geesh. I answer that question so much, yo, after the impromptu interview It was a bit much. But when I gave a general answer "Oh, I took shahada at college, when I was 18", she was all, "But, HOW?!".
Okay. Que rude. Luckily the bell rang and I went to teach my class. My student Ishmael had seen them crowd me in the lobby and said, "I know, they interviewed me, too." It's hilarious, but at the same time, makes me kinda mad. What's up with that?!
Anyhow, I'm off on a journey. Please make dua'a for my grandmother, and for me, and for my family. InshaAllah I'll talk to you all after I get back.
peace
TwennyTwo
It's going to be a looooong weekend.
I'm riding down to my parents' birthplace with my Aunt C. inshaAllah. I actually don't anticipate drama. I think Allah is testing me with this one. I think patience and love will be key. I also plan to enjoy my time with my cousins, especially the one whose birthday is Monday. She's also the youngest and smartest and most sensitive of the bunch, and I miss her. The rest of the time I'll be reading or sleeping- I doubt Aunt C. would unbend enough for me to help them drive, and it's between 9 and 12 hours driving. Which means I'm headed out of here soon. Praying for mercy the entire way.
D. moved to Syracuse, to start his master's studies bootcamp for journalists. I'm definitely going to miss D's presence. I think what confused me so about him is the fact that he's a one in a million friend; one that makes me feel confident, smart, and safe at the same time. I finally figured out that while he's not my future husband, the one for me will have those same qualities times about a hundred and BE MUSLIM. So there. Question resolved. He's enjoying his time in bootcamp and I'm glad; that's something he's wanted to do for a very long time, and I'm glad he's happy with that choice. I also know that that's the end of an era, since I most likely won't be in DC by the time he finishes his studies.
Speaking of DC, yesterday I took my accent seminar students for a field trip to the Capitol and the House Gallery. I think the trip itself went pretty well; But I've got some serious questions. If the congresspeople and the Capitol are supposed to be freely accessible to the people, then why do you have to have separate passes to get to the House galleries, Senate galleries, and the Rotunda? Why do you have to have a Capitol staffer with you to see all three at the same time? One red-shirted guide nearly ticked me off by quite loudly explaining that I didn't have the right pass for the rotunda. I let my students see it anyway (this is MY government, too!), and they snapped photos before the red-shirt controlfreak used a walkie talkie to call a Capitol guard to escort us away. Humph.
And, oh, yeah, we got to see the vote on the bill to support education and decrease in student loan debt. Steve Chabot, I am severely disappointed in you! How dare you vote no on a bill that would help so many of your constituents in Cincinnati to excape from the burdens placed in front of higher ed in this country! One of only 5 who did so as well. I'll be writing a formal letter. So yeah, it was def cool to see my past and present representatives on the floor. When the vote was first called, the floor was empty. My students asked, "Is this it?" and wondered exactly how many people would get to vote... and then they started trickling in. I personally found it fun to see how they were dressed, who they talked to, and how they made the vote- they took these little cards and placed them into a slot, then pushed the button to make their choice; at the end they were asked if they wanted to change their vote, I guess to prevent mistakes. One rep was awesome- she wore a white jacket, black skirt, had her hair elaborately braded into a crown, and a long flowing red scarf over her shoulder. I remember thinking that'd be a killer hijab. It was a thrill to see John Conyers and Charlie Dingel as well as Ambassador Wilson, too. Very cool. I hadn't seen that scene since I left my lobby position my sophomore year.
And then I returned to the school to teach my night class. I met two very nice sisters named Samiya and Fatema, from Jubeid (sp?) in Saudi. They proceeded to ask me fiftyleven questions: Oh, you're Muslim? Where are you from? And your family? No, I mean, are your whole family Muslim? Do you speak Arabic? Oh, so that's what you know? How did you come to Islam?
That last one... geesh. I answer that question so much, yo, after the impromptu interview It was a bit much. But when I gave a general answer "Oh, I took shahada at college, when I was 18", she was all, "But, HOW?!".
Okay. Que rude. Luckily the bell rang and I went to teach my class. My student Ishmael had seen them crowd me in the lobby and said, "I know, they interviewed me, too." It's hilarious, but at the same time, makes me kinda mad. What's up with that?!
Anyhow, I'm off on a journey. Please make dua'a for my grandmother, and for me, and for my family. InshaAllah I'll talk to you all after I get back.
peace
TwennyTwo
Sunday, July 08, 2007
My grandmother has died
peace
inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un.
My grandmother died at 8:29 this morning. May God grant her peace and have mercy upon her.
Please pray for her, and her children, her husband, her sibs and all of the rest of us.
I have to blog it out. My sister doesn't want to talk, and my cell is nearly dead. And I have some whinery in here somewhere. Blog blog blog.
I'm so sad right now. You might think it's odd that I'm not really sad for my grandmother- she'd been very sick, so that I'm glad she nor her caregivers have to go through illness anymore. And I'm relieved that we don't have to have disputes between us anymore. Her being sick opened a door for me to forgive ( though I'm not done with that yet I have started). Mostly I'm grieving for my mother- she was at the nursing center with her this morning, just the two of them. Reminded me a lot of how Nzingha described being with her mother at her passing. And for my aunts, my grandmother's other daughters, as well. My aunt C., the one I lived with here when I came back from Puerto Rico, had just left the night before, so she made it back here. She'll have to make the trip again. I think she'll be the most deeply affected of all of them. She's so stoic, but the advent of my grandmother's illness has made her frantic in a way. I wish I could comfort her, but, true to pattern, I think I'm so annoying to her that I'd just irritate her. As I did my grandmother, a lot of times. *sigh*
Today is my remaining grandmother's birthday, so I called her. My grandparents live up the street from one another; technically the streets have different names since they're bisected by the main road that goes through Tuskegee, but we only have to cross one street to walk from the house of my mother's parents to that of my father's mother. She said she was grateful to have made it to another year- and that she was cooking for "yo mama'nem. Your mama has been up so late all these nights, They all been up these nights, they shouldn't have to be cookin' too". Her co-mother-in-law (why don't we have a term for this in English?!) died on her birthday and she started cooking, which is very "her".
Mama (I actually call her Mami which sounds like Mommy in English, but it's wierd to write that) asked me if I'd be able to come to Tuskegee. Ostensibly for the funeral. I want to go give her a hug and wait on her. Yup, go and serve my mama. I'm rather ambivalent about the funeral for a couple of reasons, but they all are some variation of the fact that I don't want my grandmother's funeral to become or enable a focus on my differences from and with my extended family. At all. And I want to avoid that completely. I selfishly don't want things to be about me, I don't want questions, I don't want to sing, I don't want to be overwhelmed, I just want to go hug my mama and fix her plates and rub her feet.
I know that depending on which scholar I listen to I'm not supposed to go to the funeral anyway. Part of me doesn't want to go. I don't like funerals. I don't like my grandparent's church (this is where my mother and all my aunts were married.) I prefer burials, when things are quiet and the body is returned to the earth. Islamic funeral prayers and burials are just my style, really.
But. My mother has asked it. So much of my life in Alabama has been funerals, looking at the orange and white sandy ground while preachers say things and people brush tissues over their faces. InshaAllah I'll go to Tuskegee and play things by ear from there.
Logistics won't be fun. I guess I'll be making the ride down and back with my youngest aunt and uncle. I'm broke and I'm looking for work; I don't know if the school where I'm teaching will actually hire me back for both morning and evening sessions (it's month to month work until I'm full time, one session left to teach for that to happen), and I don't know where the money to travel will come from. I have a final exam to administer on Thursday evening; if perhaps I give it on Wednesday and let the students turn in their final book reports on Thursday, I could turn in the paperwork in order to actually be able to leave on Thursday night or Friday morning... I was going to use the time to look for jobs but... and, oh, yeah, Friday just happens to be my 26th birthday. And I thought the last one sucked. At least now I don't have to wonder about what I'm going to do. And I'll get to be around my cousins and my sibs and my family. *sigh*. I'm reaching for Allah right now, to help me know how to act.
You know, my grandmother had a great life. She kicked ass. As much as we disagreed, she gave me the best gift I have- my mother. For that alone I should celebrate the fact that she was here. and ask for God to keep her now that she's not. I'm mixed up, but I know that I'm grateful for that much.
But my grandmother has died, and she didn't die alone; my mother was with her. Pray for them, pray for us.
peace
TwennyTwo
inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un.
My grandmother died at 8:29 this morning. May God grant her peace and have mercy upon her.
Please pray for her, and her children, her husband, her sibs and all of the rest of us.
I have to blog it out. My sister doesn't want to talk, and my cell is nearly dead. And I have some whinery in here somewhere. Blog blog blog.
I'm so sad right now. You might think it's odd that I'm not really sad for my grandmother- she'd been very sick, so that I'm glad she nor her caregivers have to go through illness anymore. And I'm relieved that we don't have to have disputes between us anymore. Her being sick opened a door for me to forgive ( though I'm not done with that yet I have started). Mostly I'm grieving for my mother- she was at the nursing center with her this morning, just the two of them. Reminded me a lot of how Nzingha described being with her mother at her passing. And for my aunts, my grandmother's other daughters, as well. My aunt C., the one I lived with here when I came back from Puerto Rico, had just left the night before, so she made it back here. She'll have to make the trip again. I think she'll be the most deeply affected of all of them. She's so stoic, but the advent of my grandmother's illness has made her frantic in a way. I wish I could comfort her, but, true to pattern, I think I'm so annoying to her that I'd just irritate her. As I did my grandmother, a lot of times. *sigh*
Today is my remaining grandmother's birthday, so I called her. My grandparents live up the street from one another; technically the streets have different names since they're bisected by the main road that goes through Tuskegee, but we only have to cross one street to walk from the house of my mother's parents to that of my father's mother. She said she was grateful to have made it to another year- and that she was cooking for "yo mama'nem. Your mama has been up so late all these nights, They all been up these nights, they shouldn't have to be cookin' too". Her co-mother-in-law (why don't we have a term for this in English?!) died on her birthday and she started cooking, which is very "her".
Mama (I actually call her Mami which sounds like Mommy in English, but it's wierd to write that) asked me if I'd be able to come to Tuskegee. Ostensibly for the funeral. I want to go give her a hug and wait on her. Yup, go and serve my mama. I'm rather ambivalent about the funeral for a couple of reasons, but they all are some variation of the fact that I don't want my grandmother's funeral to become or enable a focus on my differences from and with my extended family. At all. And I want to avoid that completely. I selfishly don't want things to be about me, I don't want questions, I don't want to sing, I don't want to be overwhelmed, I just want to go hug my mama and fix her plates and rub her feet.
I know that depending on which scholar I listen to I'm not supposed to go to the funeral anyway. Part of me doesn't want to go. I don't like funerals. I don't like my grandparent's church (this is where my mother and all my aunts were married.) I prefer burials, when things are quiet and the body is returned to the earth. Islamic funeral prayers and burials are just my style, really.
But. My mother has asked it. So much of my life in Alabama has been funerals, looking at the orange and white sandy ground while preachers say things and people brush tissues over their faces. InshaAllah I'll go to Tuskegee and play things by ear from there.
Logistics won't be fun. I guess I'll be making the ride down and back with my youngest aunt and uncle. I'm broke and I'm looking for work; I don't know if the school where I'm teaching will actually hire me back for both morning and evening sessions (it's month to month work until I'm full time, one session left to teach for that to happen), and I don't know where the money to travel will come from. I have a final exam to administer on Thursday evening; if perhaps I give it on Wednesday and let the students turn in their final book reports on Thursday, I could turn in the paperwork in order to actually be able to leave on Thursday night or Friday morning... I was going to use the time to look for jobs but... and, oh, yeah, Friday just happens to be my 26th birthday. And I thought the last one sucked. At least now I don't have to wonder about what I'm going to do. And I'll get to be around my cousins and my sibs and my family. *sigh*. I'm reaching for Allah right now, to help me know how to act.
You know, my grandmother had a great life. She kicked ass. As much as we disagreed, she gave me the best gift I have- my mother. For that alone I should celebrate the fact that she was here. and ask for God to keep her now that she's not. I'm mixed up, but I know that I'm grateful for that much.
But my grandmother has died, and she didn't die alone; my mother was with her. Pray for them, pray for us.
peace
TwennyTwo
Monday, June 18, 2007
I be thinkin', that's all
peace,
InshaAllah y'all are all doing really well.
I've come to the conclusion that I know nothing. It's up to me to be/get motivated in my life, so we'll see where that goes.
I'm also boy-crazy and going through puberty at the great late age of twennyfive. Yeah. Take all the fun symptoms from when you were 12-20 and then start them over at 25. Nuts, I tell you, nuts, and I don't want to get into particulars but this is NOT. Fun.
I've decided to begin marathon training again, in order to run the half-marathon in Cincinnati next May. If, inshaAllah, I make it through that (I've got something to prove) without killing myself, I'll look at either the Marine Corps Marathon or the NYC Marathon but we gotta take this one at a time! Remember, I barely have any sort of income, here.
I've registered (or, begun the registration process, rather) for a taribah (spelling) and ilm camp in Maryland shortly after my birthday. InshaAllah I can find a ride and actually go. I think it'll be a start. if I don't keep Islamic retreats and learning on the forefront of my activities, I'llstart to slide. Not what I want.
I'm working on applying to the position my father sent to me through my mother. And, I'm starting as an independent contractor *sigh* with an ESL school very close to my apt during the week, and working at The Grocery Store for the release and physical work on the weekends. So pray for patience and motivation to prepare properly and prevent piss poor performance at this new position. I've always hated lesson planning, but now I know it's key. I don't think I'll get much sleep tonight, and tomorrow's my first day of class.
Mama always did give me this thought, though: "Don't worry about being the new teacher. As horrible as it could be, you still know more than they do."
***
I want to get married. I need to get married.
Marriage is a very real thing to me. I'm just going to keep saying that so it's clear. Or until something changes. I've found that to be a very effective way of changing- keeping whatever it is I want to change right out in front of me until I get ticked off and make it change.
On less of an update tip, I've been thinking... on working on myself more. I be boycrazy, it's a fact of life that I've given up hoping will go away. But I also think about things that I want to change and, more importantly, things that I need to learn to accept.
I want a nice house with a partnering, leading husband and lots of kids. But even though I'm clean, I'm not neat and pretty disorganized to the eye at times. How do I work on that?
My finances are a wreck, I'm saving very slowly, a certain freely associated state government owes me money but can't take back the damage already done- and I want to change that. How do I work on that?
I'd love to talk or even communicate better with my family. How do I do that? This is no small matter- my grandmother is in intensive care, and I found out incidentally. WTH? And, I'm very ambivalent about her illness. I want her to be well, to get better so much, and yet... I feel like I don't know her, and what I do know, I don't like. I want to find great depths of compassion for her because she is my grandmother and that's my duty. But I've never had a huge amount of regard for things I should do just because they're my duty. How do I work on that?
I don't own a computer or a car, two very crucial methods of connection for me. How do I change that?
Yeah. Workin' on it.
Please make dua'a for my roomate. She's just broken off an engagement and needs all the support and prayers she can get. It's not the best situation and she's hurting and a real marvel of a woman to be functioning this far, so keep her in mind.
And do drop a comment to let me know you've been by!
ma salaama
TwennyTwo
InshaAllah y'all are all doing really well.
I've come to the conclusion that I know nothing. It's up to me to be/get motivated in my life, so we'll see where that goes.
I'm also boy-crazy and going through puberty at the great late age of twennyfive. Yeah. Take all the fun symptoms from when you were 12-20 and then start them over at 25. Nuts, I tell you, nuts, and I don't want to get into particulars but this is NOT. Fun.
I've decided to begin marathon training again, in order to run the half-marathon in Cincinnati next May. If, inshaAllah, I make it through that (I've got something to prove) without killing myself, I'll look at either the Marine Corps Marathon or the NYC Marathon but we gotta take this one at a time! Remember, I barely have any sort of income, here.
I've registered (or, begun the registration process, rather) for a taribah (spelling) and ilm camp in Maryland shortly after my birthday. InshaAllah I can find a ride and actually go. I think it'll be a start. if I don't keep Islamic retreats and learning on the forefront of my activities, I'llstart to slide. Not what I want.
I'm working on applying to the position my father sent to me through my mother. And, I'm starting as an independent contractor *sigh* with an ESL school very close to my apt during the week, and working at The Grocery Store for the release and physical work on the weekends. So pray for patience and motivation to prepare properly and prevent piss poor performance at this new position. I've always hated lesson planning, but now I know it's key. I don't think I'll get much sleep tonight, and tomorrow's my first day of class.
Mama always did give me this thought, though: "Don't worry about being the new teacher. As horrible as it could be, you still know more than they do."
***
I want to get married. I need to get married.
Marriage is a very real thing to me. I'm just going to keep saying that so it's clear. Or until something changes. I've found that to be a very effective way of changing- keeping whatever it is I want to change right out in front of me until I get ticked off and make it change.
On less of an update tip, I've been thinking... on working on myself more. I be boycrazy, it's a fact of life that I've given up hoping will go away. But I also think about things that I want to change and, more importantly, things that I need to learn to accept.
I want a nice house with a partnering, leading husband and lots of kids. But even though I'm clean, I'm not neat and pretty disorganized to the eye at times. How do I work on that?
My finances are a wreck, I'm saving very slowly, a certain freely associated state government owes me money but can't take back the damage already done- and I want to change that. How do I work on that?
I'd love to talk or even communicate better with my family. How do I do that? This is no small matter- my grandmother is in intensive care, and I found out incidentally. WTH? And, I'm very ambivalent about her illness. I want her to be well, to get better so much, and yet... I feel like I don't know her, and what I do know, I don't like. I want to find great depths of compassion for her because she is my grandmother and that's my duty. But I've never had a huge amount of regard for things I should do just because they're my duty. How do I work on that?
I don't own a computer or a car, two very crucial methods of connection for me. How do I change that?
Yeah. Workin' on it.
Please make dua'a for my roomate. She's just broken off an engagement and needs all the support and prayers she can get. It's not the best situation and she's hurting and a real marvel of a woman to be functioning this far, so keep her in mind.
And do drop a comment to let me know you've been by!
ma salaama
TwennyTwo
Friday, May 04, 2007
peace,
Found this on Umm Zaid's page as I was browsing, and enjoyed it. She asks five questions; everyone gets to see the answers. Want in? See below!
1. Puerto Rico: What do you love about it?
Ayyyyy, what a question. This is what I love about Puerto Rico: I love the people. I revel in the humid, tropical, ever-changing, beautiful, warm weather (and lack of deciduous trees with their hyperallergenic pollen). I enjoy "long" drives just drinking in the changes from blue sea to dry desert to lush green cool mountains. It's truly a beautiful place, even in the slums of the city you find beauty and green
things growing everywhere. I love the song of the coqui, something I'll never forget that will always conjure up velvet nights spent talking with some of the brightest, kindest, industrious, most generous people I've ever met. I love the typical boricua accent and the mixture of Caribbean, Africa, USA, and Spain that you can dissect... and yet not... in everything you find there. I can't get over the way the island appears in my dreams. I love Puerto Rico for her revolutionary history and her ripe potential.
I noticed you didn't ask what I don't like, so I will keep this positive. There are so many things that can change, but many many that are wonderful.
2. You're on a desert island. You have 10 books. What are they?
Not counting the Qur'an?
Whoo! This is hard! I've loved so many books. In no particular order:
The collected works of Nikki Giovanni
A Tafsir (one bigole volume)
Blessings by Anna Quindlen
Hija de La Fortuna by Isabel Allende
the Logan Family saga by Mildred D. Taylor (hmmm is that a cheat?)
any of the books by any one of these three ladies- Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez, Esmeralda Santiago, or Julia Alvarez- preferably in Spanish. I just can't pick and am so happy with them all.
Companions of the Prophet by Abdul Wahid Hamid- this has been an amazingly involving read, yo
any of Diane Mott Davidson's Goldy series (cooking sleuth, gotta love it)
La Sombra del Viento/The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos R. Zafon
Believing as Ourselves- J. Lynn Jones
booo only ten?!
3. What do you think you'll do this summer?
InshaAllah apply to nursing schools and high(er) paying, character-suitable day jobs. Have a birthday. Oh, and work at da Grocery Store nights. Find a way to get to ADAMS or other classes consistently. And pray on my roof under the stars while I have it ( lease is up in October). And maybe even learn Arabic? Hmm. So many possibilities...
4. Do you play games on the computer or regular video games? If so, what are your faves?
I actually don't play games on the computer- blogs are my games, since the only computer I have (okay, had) regular access to is at my day job. But back in the day I loved Zelda on SNES and Castles on the computer. I still play bejeweled and Collapse and Tetris on my cell, very rarely.
5. The state of Muslim youth: What do you see as positives for the future and what do you see as negative (for the community as a whole) in our future? What do you think we should be doing right now?
Beginning with the end, we need to be constantly, steadily getting people invested and involved in working on our educational systems, both what's thought of as 'true' pedagogy- the schools- and the outreach and educational capacities inherent in the gathering spaces that are our masajid.
Islamic schools need to be options that won't break people and are open to the general public, even those who aren't Muslim. They need to grow in enrollment and strength of curriculum every year. They need to be American, not "backhomelandish", since that's where we are and that's who these children are, and prepare them to live as Muslims within an American society, not to ghettoize or isolate ourselves. It's a balancing thing. This is an ideal, remember. And schools need to have people involved from the community as a whole just as GP, not just parents/grandparents, in order to have a further source of investment and push for the future.
As I was raised in the awesome community institution that was a strong black church (though it had its flaws I also know ideals because of it), I have in mind just a hint of what our ummah in the US can become if we utilize these outreach and communication tools properly. This begins with outreach that accepts and encounters people in the places where they are- be they into drugs, teen parents, all about the outer flash, superficial Christianity, etc.- in order to use the rational questioning that is such a basis for Islam to bring them closer to the light, without entering personal judgments into the picture. Become that great, good place with all sorts of people and knowledge of the deen and also area services, where everyone just naturally wants to be all the time because there's something that nourishes them there.
I am NOT saying give up Islamic ideals in order to approach young people; I wouldn't want to see brothers in silk and gold bling around young folks in order to 'do as they do' and make them feel comfortable. Rather, provide charity and examples to them in various ways (food, community fairs? 'Muslims in the Recording Studio/on the Radio events for youth? some sort of latin/northeast asian oriented activities? more things like Project Downtown, which is awesome, MashaAllah? Stoop Group youth meetings that aren't necessarily inside at the masjid, but in a park around where people actually live? Job fairs open to all but heavily recruiting to Muslim business or providing Muslim mentors to young people? I'm sure y'all have more ideas...), and live Islam, while going to find people where they are in order to have them accept where we are and in seeing prosperity and peace, have them want to know about it of their own accord. That's dawah that can change communities, and what I'm talking about is hard work.
I hope that made sense. It's hard to articulate what I see in my head.
Now, as for negatives in the community, from domestic to international- a substantial reason the american youth of the ummah don't have a whole lot of cohesiveness is the divisions and stereotypes fostered by our parents. Y'all know what I'm talking about. Many of us are handed the misconception that Islam cannot be US, cannot be American, cannot speak something besides English and Urdu/Arabic, can be American only if of backhomelandish descent. Not cool. Also? For the lack of the strong Islamic school alternative and parental ability to be everywhere at once, a lot of us are treading very fine lines on societal norms instead of creating them ourselves. And we don't know more about Islam than what's heard in the Khutbah on Fridays, because those of us who do are pushed to be more 'backhomelandish.
I'm not articulating this well, but the speaker at EZ on making our mark on Islam hit it when he said that we need to be useful to our community, to feel as if we're contributing with the uniquenesses that we're allowed to explore in the freedom that growing up in the USA creates, in order to attach ourselves to Islam here, make it our own, and see it grow. The short message was, don't all be doctors and lawyers and marry your own color/race/class/country of origin, because we need to branch out to be truly expanding here. Because right now we're stagnating and from denouncing Islam to being nominal Muslims to raising children as Muslims with haraam norms, it's not okay.
I will say this, though; Islam still has a draw for young people, and the few conferences that I've attended and the people I know bear that out very strongly. We're youthful and find strength in that, and we're of the generation that takes freedoms and uses them, and uses power in a very organic, natural diversity of Islam. I think I said some time ago that I was talking to a 19 year old Muslim at a university, just randomly, and was blown away- he was one of a group of kids in that particular place that not only had ideas but was acting on them. Entrepreneurship is our heritage, as is the willingness to get ahead and pull others up, and when young people aren't actively discouraged we come up with some wonderful ideas AND actions..
Thanks so much for my interview, I enjoyed it and inshaAllah someone will benefit from it. JazakhAllah khair.
Want to play?
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions (so you have to leave a valid email address). I get to pick the questions. And yes: email. Leave your address. I don't use haloscan, so use (at) h@tma!l, or other creative way to say it. I'll delete comments with emails.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
peace
TwennyTwo
Found this on Umm Zaid's page as I was browsing, and enjoyed it. She asks five questions; everyone gets to see the answers. Want in? See below!
1. Puerto Rico: What do you love about it?
Ayyyyy, what a question. This is what I love about Puerto Rico: I love the people. I revel in the humid, tropical, ever-changing, beautiful, warm weather (and lack of deciduous trees with their hyperallergenic pollen). I enjoy "long" drives just drinking in the changes from blue sea to dry desert to lush green cool mountains. It's truly a beautiful place, even in the slums of the city you find beauty and green
things growing everywhere. I love the song of the coqui, something I'll never forget that will always conjure up velvet nights spent talking with some of the brightest, kindest, industrious, most generous people I've ever met. I love the typical boricua accent and the mixture of Caribbean, Africa, USA, and Spain that you can dissect... and yet not... in everything you find there. I can't get over the way the island appears in my dreams. I love Puerto Rico for her revolutionary history and her ripe potential.
I noticed you didn't ask what I don't like, so I will keep this positive. There are so many things that can change, but many many that are wonderful.
2. You're on a desert island. You have 10 books. What are they?
Not counting the Qur'an?
Whoo! This is hard! I've loved so many books. In no particular order:
The collected works of Nikki Giovanni
A Tafsir (one bigole volume)
Blessings by Anna Quindlen
Hija de La Fortuna by Isabel Allende
the Logan Family saga by Mildred D. Taylor (hmmm is that a cheat?)
any of the books by any one of these three ladies- Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez, Esmeralda Santiago, or Julia Alvarez- preferably in Spanish. I just can't pick and am so happy with them all.
Companions of the Prophet by Abdul Wahid Hamid- this has been an amazingly involving read, yo
any of Diane Mott Davidson's Goldy series (cooking sleuth, gotta love it)
La Sombra del Viento/The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos R. Zafon
Believing as Ourselves- J. Lynn Jones
booo only ten?!
3. What do you think you'll do this summer?
InshaAllah apply to nursing schools and high(er) paying, character-suitable day jobs. Have a birthday. Oh, and work at da Grocery Store nights. Find a way to get to ADAMS or other classes consistently. And pray on my roof under the stars while I have it ( lease is up in October). And maybe even learn Arabic? Hmm. So many possibilities...
4. Do you play games on the computer or regular video games? If so, what are your faves?
I actually don't play games on the computer- blogs are my games, since the only computer I have (okay, had) regular access to is at my day job. But back in the day I loved Zelda on SNES and Castles on the computer. I still play bejeweled and Collapse and Tetris on my cell, very rarely.
5. The state of Muslim youth: What do you see as positives for the future and what do you see as negative (for the community as a whole) in our future? What do you think we should be doing right now?
Beginning with the end, we need to be constantly, steadily getting people invested and involved in working on our educational systems, both what's thought of as 'true' pedagogy- the schools- and the outreach and educational capacities inherent in the gathering spaces that are our masajid.
Islamic schools need to be options that won't break people and are open to the general public, even those who aren't Muslim. They need to grow in enrollment and strength of curriculum every year. They need to be American, not "backhomelandish", since that's where we are and that's who these children are, and prepare them to live as Muslims within an American society, not to ghettoize or isolate ourselves. It's a balancing thing. This is an ideal, remember. And schools need to have people involved from the community as a whole just as GP, not just parents/grandparents, in order to have a further source of investment and push for the future.
As I was raised in the awesome community institution that was a strong black church (though it had its flaws I also know ideals because of it), I have in mind just a hint of what our ummah in the US can become if we utilize these outreach and communication tools properly. This begins with outreach that accepts and encounters people in the places where they are- be they into drugs, teen parents, all about the outer flash, superficial Christianity, etc.- in order to use the rational questioning that is such a basis for Islam to bring them closer to the light, without entering personal judgments into the picture. Become that great, good place with all sorts of people and knowledge of the deen and also area services, where everyone just naturally wants to be all the time because there's something that nourishes them there.
I am NOT saying give up Islamic ideals in order to approach young people; I wouldn't want to see brothers in silk and gold bling around young folks in order to 'do as they do' and make them feel comfortable. Rather, provide charity and examples to them in various ways (food, community fairs? 'Muslims in the Recording Studio/on the Radio events for youth? some sort of latin/northeast asian oriented activities? more things like Project Downtown, which is awesome, MashaAllah? Stoop Group youth meetings that aren't necessarily inside at the masjid, but in a park around where people actually live? Job fairs open to all but heavily recruiting to Muslim business or providing Muslim mentors to young people? I'm sure y'all have more ideas...), and live Islam, while going to find people where they are in order to have them accept where we are and in seeing prosperity and peace, have them want to know about it of their own accord. That's dawah that can change communities, and what I'm talking about is hard work.
I hope that made sense. It's hard to articulate what I see in my head.
Now, as for negatives in the community, from domestic to international- a substantial reason the american youth of the ummah don't have a whole lot of cohesiveness is the divisions and stereotypes fostered by our parents. Y'all know what I'm talking about. Many of us are handed the misconception that Islam cannot be US, cannot be American, cannot speak something besides English and Urdu/Arabic, can be American only if of backhomelandish descent. Not cool. Also? For the lack of the strong Islamic school alternative and parental ability to be everywhere at once, a lot of us are treading very fine lines on societal norms instead of creating them ourselves. And we don't know more about Islam than what's heard in the Khutbah on Fridays, because those of us who do are pushed to be more 'backhomelandish.
I'm not articulating this well, but the speaker at EZ on making our mark on Islam hit it when he said that we need to be useful to our community, to feel as if we're contributing with the uniquenesses that we're allowed to explore in the freedom that growing up in the USA creates, in order to attach ourselves to Islam here, make it our own, and see it grow. The short message was, don't all be doctors and lawyers and marry your own color/race/class/country of origin, because we need to branch out to be truly expanding here. Because right now we're stagnating and from denouncing Islam to being nominal Muslims to raising children as Muslims with haraam norms, it's not okay.
I will say this, though; Islam still has a draw for young people, and the few conferences that I've attended and the people I know bear that out very strongly. We're youthful and find strength in that, and we're of the generation that takes freedoms and uses them, and uses power in a very organic, natural diversity of Islam. I think I said some time ago that I was talking to a 19 year old Muslim at a university, just randomly, and was blown away- he was one of a group of kids in that particular place that not only had ideas but was acting on them. Entrepreneurship is our heritage, as is the willingness to get ahead and pull others up, and when young people aren't actively discouraged we come up with some wonderful ideas AND actions..
Thanks so much for my interview, I enjoyed it and inshaAllah someone will benefit from it. JazakhAllah khair.
Want to play?
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions (so you have to leave a valid email address). I get to pick the questions. And yes: email. Leave your address. I don't use haloscan, so use (at) h@tma!l, or other creative way to say it. I'll delete comments with emails.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
peace
TwennyTwo
Friday, February 09, 2007
Gratitude. Gratitude. Gratitude.
peace,
Okay, so I have issues.
I didn't realize this until I had a panic attack after speaking to my father when he called my job, because he asked me, "How many jobs do you have?"
Because he called me at work.
Because he's in town.
Because he wants to see me.
Because I (only) have one job.
Because I'm nearly out of money.
Because he wants to come to my house.
Because I don't know how I'm going to move from one house to another without any money.
Because I need to be able to leave this job after experiencing the harrassment of the other day.
Because. Just because.
Panic attack. I'm talking racing heart, funny stomach pit, shaking fingers panic attack.
So I've decided to turn this around:
I'm GRATEFUL.
I'm grateful to the One true God, the Most High, the Provider.
I'm grateful that I have a job.
I'm grateful that I have telephone access at my job.
I'm grateful that my father is alive to call me.
I'm grateful that my father wants to see me and loves me.
I'm grateful that I have the opportunity to see my father when he lives 600 miles away.
I'm grateful that I can work more than one job.
I'm grateful that I'm open to take any evening or work job I can.
I'm grateful that I have access to a computer to "talk" myself out of panicking when nothing else is available.
I'm grateful that I'll have choices when it comes to housing. InshaAllah.
I'm grateful there's always tomorrow to look forward to; even when things are getting worse they'll eventually be better. SubhanAllah.
peace
TwennyTwo
Okay, so I have issues.
I didn't realize this until I had a panic attack after speaking to my father when he called my job, because he asked me, "How many jobs do you have?"
Because he called me at work.
Because he's in town.
Because he wants to see me.
Because I (only) have one job.
Because I'm nearly out of money.
Because he wants to come to my house.
Because I don't know how I'm going to move from one house to another without any money.
Because I need to be able to leave this job after experiencing the harrassment of the other day.
Because. Just because.
Panic attack. I'm talking racing heart, funny stomach pit, shaking fingers panic attack.
So I've decided to turn this around:
I'm GRATEFUL.
I'm grateful to the One true God, the Most High, the Provider.
I'm grateful that I have a job.
I'm grateful that I have telephone access at my job.
I'm grateful that my father is alive to call me.
I'm grateful that my father wants to see me and loves me.
I'm grateful that I have the opportunity to see my father when he lives 600 miles away.
I'm grateful that I can work more than one job.
I'm grateful that I'm open to take any evening or work job I can.
I'm grateful that I have access to a computer to "talk" myself out of panicking when nothing else is available.
I'm grateful that I'll have choices when it comes to housing. InshaAllah.
I'm grateful there's always tomorrow to look forward to; even when things are getting worse they'll eventually be better. SubhanAllah.
peace
TwennyTwo
Saturday, February 14, 2004
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.
'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.
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