I'd like to make myself belive, that planet Earth moves slowly...

Hate is a strong word.

Now that that is established let it be known that as of February 3rd of 2011, I hate my universities' Bursar office. Long story short they applied a scholarship I now longer have because I changed my major to pursue my passion and do what I so desperately believe will actually matter in the world. This of course resulted in them spending money I didn't have and then charging me for their mistake. They also are charging me 10% in late fees on top of the money I already don't have. They are also asking that I pay the 350$ that the scholarship didn't cover. Also they didn't even email me to notify me of the removal of my scholarship until nearly a week after it occurred. My mother instructs me to go down there and "get my money."

So, I do. I explain that they are charging me more than the scholarship ever would've covered. The consultant agrees. She does not apologize. She only uses facts. She says it sucks but, they aren't financial aid. They do not "help get money for students to go to school." My mother texts me to demand an itemized list of expenses, show were I was double charged. I asked. The consultant gave me the sheet. I ripped it. She waves good bye. I paid the bill. I now have 12$ to my name.


She went back to playing Farmville.

No regrets, Just love....

My life is too much of the "I can't sleep" and not enough of the "don't ever look back." Or for that matter not enough of any of the Teenage Dream.




Feeling like you need the lyrics to appreciate the full experience? Teenage Dream/Just the way you are

I could use a dream or a genie or a wish...

Sometimes, I come here just to remember who I used to be. I'm kind of 'in between me's', just a small town girl living in a lonely world. The problem is I missed the midnight train going anywhere. So until I find my metaphorical boarding pass, I'm just living on a prayer. But, enough about me. There are 1440 minutes so how are you today?

When Somebody Loved Me Everything Was Beautiful...

It's final weeks which in short means reviewing everything you thought you knew to quickly and unfortunately realize you know nothing. Then you stress, worry, and think about thinking about sleeping but, you don't. And if you're me, you have two, really 3, jobs, semi-alcoholic neighbors, friends in other states having mock crises which require 4am phone calls, and presentations galore. I do everything for everyone and for nothing besides, temporary peace of mind. And while I hate to quote Ms. Spears in such a moment, "all I need is time, a moment that is mine, while I'm in between." So, there it is dearest of constantly neglected blogs, I'm someone I don't know and currently feeling a little besides myself.


Someone with Postsecret agrees:

"She needs wide open spaces
Room to make her big mistakes
She needs new faces."

It's fairly simple really: my ever-increasing list of things to do is leaving me feeling totally undone. I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me at once. It's cheating. The world is cheating, or perhaps the world is just wiser than I. Either way, I've found there is only one solution:

I want to take a vacation...with myself. How beautiful it is to do nothing, and then to rest afterward.

I shall sip cocoa, leave my hair in it's original waved bounce state, and pray for the rain to continue. If I'm lucky laughter, dancing, and romantic interests will be peaked.

World, now, right now, I need me.

Friends: A Sweet Dream or A Beautiful Nightmare ?

It's been a trying week. It's one thing when others break you down but, it's another thing when you are breaking your self down. When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves. You face old challenges that question a new you. And when you find yourself fighting for yourself you begin to ask a new question: Is it worth it?. But, like the Beatles said, "I'll get by with a little help from my friends."

Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away. That, that is friendship. To say tonight was a challenge is an understatement. But, somewhere in the misery she managed to find two words that I couldn't resist smiling about, "No cheese."

And to the world those words mean nothing but, to me, at that moment, they meant everything. They meant that she was my friend and I was hers. They meant, it would be 'ok'. Then, suddenly it was. Of course life isn't that easy, and all my troubles didn't disappear but, they aren't as heavy since I had someone else to help me carry the load.

"Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
"Pooh!" he whispered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw.
"I just wanted to be sure of you.""

Sunday Snippets #2: Hate must make a man productive. Otherwise one might as well love.

Theme of the week: The value of words versus their actual meanings and impressions.

"If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself.
What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us."

Since childhood we’re taught that actions speak louder than words, but, that’s not always true. People hurt me everyday with their words, not their fists. And sometimes, like the random man who said to me this weekend “You’re nice and Jesus would love you too, if you were Christian.” I kinda wish he had punched me instead. It woulda hurt less.

Lesson learned: No one means all he says, and yet very few say all they mean, for words are slippery and thought is viscous.

When A Heart Breaks, It Don't Break Even

Boom went the thunder and lighting and ring went then phone. I lay still on the twin size bed as his sister clinched my hand tighter, afraid the tornado would take her away. Boom went the thunder and clinch went her fist, grasping at my skin, barely asleep, yet, wide awake. Crash went the wind slamming against the window pane and ring went the phone. The house, the weather, the family finally lay still, ring went the phone, "Yes, I love you" went him.

Love is in the air, the very air that I breathe. It's the very air that hung so heavy last night, sinking in deeper, knowing that after I heard love, I found hate. Many would assume that love is a positive thing but, love like change, requires both now and then. The then to this story is me. It's less the physical representation of me and more the mental. I am Muslim. He is Muslim. But, she isn't. So he loves what isn't me. He loves her, she who isn't Muslim, she who shouldn't be.

For centuries, culture has played a tug of war with those of ambition. Those souls who dare to think, or rather, love outside of the box. Think of the Boleyean girls daring to marry up for power, wealth, and status. Think of Princess Diana and her Egyptian boyfriend, or perhaps more recently with Kobe Bryant and his Caucasian girl wonder. Think of those who joined in union because of love but, divided communities, families, and lives because of the hate the union brought on. Think of Pochantos and John Smith, the tale of a man who wasn't afraid to show his parents what he loves, who he loves. Now think of yourself and what role you play into all of this.

A great friend of mine, Ms. Latifa, a Muslim slam-poet, from Atlanta, Georgia receives high acclaim for her poem 'My 9/11 story.' My favorite poem however is entitled, 'Plan B', in it she writes, "honestly, I didn't think you would marry me. Maybe Aliyah, or Zakiah, but at the community picnic the other day you introduced me to your new wife, Tamika." The poem continues, telling the story of a girl enraged by the pattern of Muslim men dating outside of their religion. And while in Islam such a merger is allowable, I, too, am enraged.

You see unlike marrying outside of color, or culture, in a community where religion is life, it's hard explaining why your best friends' brother lay awake at 2am, in damn near tears, over a Catholic girl from Indiana. My beef isn't with her as a person, she's nice, polite, quaint but, in many ways she's everything I'm not. At the end of the day she isn't Muslim. She doesn't hold the same beliefs, values, customs, as we do. And while it may seem that I'm jealous, I'm more disappointed than anything. Because within the Islamic community there are plenty of nice,polite, quaint, girls but, he chose her.

As Ms.Latifa so boldly states, "And this is not about her, its about the fact that you could of had any muslimah, any Zakiya, any Alliyah, but instead of you trying to keep our community intact, you want to start from scratch." I'm sick of these non-muslim chicks who don't know the struggle but, are getting all the perks, when we have been putting in all the work. How can we build our ummah if your wife is going to church? Some might say but, 'there are so many other Muslim men to choose from, why do you need him' but, in all honesty there isn't. And now we're one less.

Ms.Latifah continues, making the point that perhaps the Muslim men seek such women, because us, Muslim women, serve as a reminder, and they just don't want to be reminded. She doesn't know that verse in the Quran when you are wrong, but you know that I will find it. So, as one of those reminders, just let me remind you how much it hurts. It's not like marrying outside of color, or culture, it's religion. And it's more than acceptable as the Prophet Muhammd (saws) married a Christan women, as well as a Jewish one. And for him I can see why, he was an example that it is allowable for Muslim men to marry any woman of the monotheistic religions, conditionally speaking. If he hadn't done such, and it wasn't allowable it would provide grounds for further segregation and divisions, which is not Islam. But what about all the other Muslim men, the non-examples, the ones who insist on "starting from scratch?" What about those just like my friends brother who had every oppurtunity to create a Muslim family but, decided to leave yet another Muslim sister without a husband instead? And, I don't mean for us to sound like charity cases, or dependat upon the Muslim brothers that don't deserve us, I mean the men, not the boys. To the men let me be the one to ask why?

Boom went the rain and down fell my hopes of him not being with her.

Pissed Off Post #23...."Stop Celebrating Your Ignorance

"Usually when people are sad, they don't do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change." -Malcom X

Last night was one of the worst nights I've ever had. In fact, I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried. And when I stopped crying I couldn't breathe,I flushed red, and I cried. The worst part is I didn't even have a reason to cry. Or at least that's what he said.

But, I wonder do you ever need a reason to feel? Is it like I have to get a permit, pass go and collect NO 200$?Screw that! & that's when I stopped crying and started getting real. Tears do nothing but smudge mascara and give delicious salt filled pellets to my smooth lips. Tears have never saved any one and they won't save me. So this morning when I woke up , I crossed out everything I scribbled in my journal and instead wrote 'Fuck yes, I blame her,them, they and every other person that pissed me off yesterday and I allowed to do so.'

But, more than anyone I blame him, the nameless Writing Tutorial Services dude. He doesn't even get a name. All I needed was a thesis statement. I had an entire list of ideas, plot lines, and characters I wanted to include. In fact, I had a working thesis it just wasn't the thesis I needed. And you know what he said "Oh well I didn't read the book." But, I didn't freak out then no I held my composure. He didn't need to read the book to help me, the person who DID read the book but, NO! After 23 mins, this happened:

Jerk off writer dude: Well, I think you've got a good idea.
Me: Oh I understand that. I just am not verbalizing it correctly
JOWD: Well, then you need to verbalize
Me: *smiles*
JOWD: I mean, I'm not going to write your paper for you.
Me: Well, of course because it's MY paper not to mention you haven't read the novel.
JOWD: Duh, I'm not required to read every book for every student that needs help.
Me: Well I know that but...

[unnecessary stare down]
yes it really happened

Me: Fine, I guess I can just do it on my own then
JOWD: Duh, it's your paper. And since you already know everything then do it yourself, you don't need to be here.
Me: Apparently I don't. I suppose I'll just have to work through it. *smiles*
JOWD: Yeah, I'm done with you, you just seem to be celebrating your ignorant excuse of a paper.
Me: *stares back wordless*

Then I got up and left. On my way out I stopped by the front desk to ask for his supervisors contact information. Then I asked for his name. I assured him it wasn't my intent to get him fired to which his rude ass replied "Oh that wouldn't happen anyways, and I'm not allowed to give out my name". Bullballs! You're not allowed to give out your name!? But, I didn't cause a scene despite his escalating tone. I explained that it is a knee jerk reaction of mine to smile when I get tense. It started in my pre-teens around 9/11. Yeah, that's when I learned that as a Muslim you want to cause as little trouble as possible when in public. So I politely apologized as did he and I left. I walked to the parking lot alone as three tears escaped my eyes.

Then I awoke this morning to realize that my religion shouldn't not be an invitation to be disrespected. I'm Muslim and will verbalize my opinion. I cried for him last night. It won't happen again.


[In case you can't see the actual picture, click to enlarge, you'll see his notes..which include none]

I Know It's Past Visiting Hours But, Can I Please Give Him These Flowers?

"Is he just another page?"

Relationships are like words. They are never actually defined. And with him**, I like that. I like that we are never the same pair of people on any given day. You'll never find a picture of us in a dictionary. Thesaurus's aren't worthy either. We're both synonyms, and antonyms. Nouns are jealous and verbs take pointers. Relationships are like words.

I tried explaining that Valentines day was a complete sham. It's a reminder to all the single loners that they aren't worthy of a relationship and a confirmation for everyone else that their relationships suck. I tried explaining to him that the kid's in my class made the ugliest cards for each other and that they adored them. I tried explaining that it was much too hard for me to admit I'm a closet romantic. I tried explaining how much I valued him in our non-existent-relationship-word-like definition.But, before I got to that part he said, "To you we aren't in the dictionary. Because to you, the words us and me have no meaning."Then, he hung up.

I'm the Grinch of Valentines day. First I made all the kids in my class make valentines for people they didn't want to. They made cards for classmates they haven't spoken 5 words towards the entire semester. Some of them even cried. But I, I just smiled, thinking today I was starting a movement. I thought I was teaching them what love really is. I thought that they knew love couldn't be defined. But, he's right it's not them, it's me that can't define it.

I can't define love because, I destroyed the meaning.

I'm coming to find that I'm not very good at relationships. And by relationships I mean any--friendships, courtships, leaderships (refer to my teaching abilities). Basically my -ships are shits. And for as much work as I put into the people in my life the outcome is failing.

I'm a teacher who's failing.
I'm a relationship therapist who's single.
It's raining and I still have braces.

He was my best friend and truth be told I'm sorry I didn't fight for us. It sucks that we never talk.Until he called today to see if I was alright**(2) I thought he forgot who I was. I figured I wasn't worthy enough for his memory. It was a long departure ending our decade of friendship, that still isn't complete. I just want to know how long of a journey this is and where the next rest stop is, because waiting to see if he'll text back is like holding your pee. I've been holding now for 7 hrs. Wonder how much longer I can hold?

Relationships are like words.But, what is the word that defines him, you, and I?



**1=Him ,**2= anniversary to the death of a mutual friend

I Tried My Best To Be a Man and Be Strong; But the Truth Remains You're Gone...

Tonight I contemplated dialing 911...

and stating that my heart had been shot. There I sat watching it gush bits of inspiration, love,and trust. There are still bit's of it on the floor. I've always known this was going to happen. I mean it's one thing to realize a mistake, it's an entirely different scenario to actualize it's repercussions. I thought about my wounded heart and calling 911 the only problem is if the ambulance had come they would've taken a non- existent pulse. Then they would have slammed it to the gurney, trying to resuscitate a weakened life. They would have held me back, pulled me down, and tried to control my vitals. They would've made me wear one of those god forsaken butt-out robes--as though I don't already feel unflattering enough.

I thought about dialing 911 and telling them I was the victim until I realized that I might have been the abuser.

"Geez, you don't have to be so mean!"

That's what my 6 yr. old neighbor whimpered at me today. I blushed with amusement and enthusiasm. I subconsciously let out a smirk. I was proud to have so much power over him, until I realized he was sincere. And there I stood future elementary educator making kids cry. It wouldn't have been so bad making him cry, it was his plea with my soul that made me join him. I really don't have to be so mean. But, then it occurred what's the alternative?

For so long I've worried about who, where, and why I will get married. Truth is I don't really care. A happy marriage is a happy marriage. But, how shall I ever get married if I keep destroying the pieces of love that fall so delicately into my life? Whether it's friends, family, or lovers I treat perfect strangers with more intimacy than I allow people I've known for decades. He's right; I don't have to be so mean but, if I'm not then....

And here's where it gets complicated. According to Merriam Webster the opposite of mean is nice. But, I've never been one to be "pleasing and agreeable and nature." Hell, my blog is called "I beg to differ."So do I have to change everything I am to become everything I should? Be yourself, is the worst advice you can give to some people. I just hope if and when I find "the one" he accepts me for me. I don't have to be so mean but, if I'm not then I'm masking the face of a person I truly am. I'm selfish. BUT, I'm wonderfully kind too. I just can't be both all the time.

I tried explaining this to my neighbor child but, he just looked at me. He hugged me and I thought he understood that I wasn't trying to hurt him. But, then he said "you didn't hurt me. It made me sad that you hurt you." He's young and his words defy his thoughts. He meant to say "I'm not hurt. I just like it when you're you (i.e. nice)." That's what he meant to say, but, that's not what he said. I am hurting me. It takes courage to grow up an be who you really are. I hope am enough.

I thought about calling 911 and then I did.

She misses the taste of wanting him...

Stop This Train, I Want To Get Off, and Go Home Again...

Part I

My grandfather always said that living is like licking honey off a throned rose. I think he meant, you must evaluate what your willing to sacrifice before you can ever taste the sweetness. Or maybe he meant, that it is certainly inevitable to be hurt. Or maybe he meant, that life is but another failed analogy to pain and love.

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.I fear now as the tears stream down my blushed cheeks that I have joined them.She reaches past her pillow and into the drawer. Right below is a a book of healing. But, tucked quietly beneath it she grabs the pad of paper. It is hotel paper. It is different than most. Hotel paper is honest. There is something in the safety and security of knowing that the thoughts and emotions may never leave that very room. I can inscribe it with words, numbers, lyrics, lines, pictures or truth. I can take it with me, or leave it behind. I can lie. I can bury myself beneath the pages of words I scribble. After all of theses options I decide to write, "I can't."

I can't let go of the things that hold me prisoner in my own cage of refuge. It's really over, he's really gone. Years have come and gone but now I cry. 'I'm on a mission now to find another you', I wrote pressing my whole palm against the lines. I miss him. He is my grandfather. But, only now do I dare admit how much I crave having another being like him. When I was younger I would whisper 'secrets' to him every chance I got.He told me things you would never imagine. I told him stories like you wouldn't believe.They weren't real secrets but, they were trust. I was his trust and he was mine. And, now he's gone. And tonight, I learned I can't my trust myself, so who do I turn to?

I sat alone, letting the ink flow freely releasing me from myself. And after about 30 mins of me being honest (with myself) on this dented hotel paper I smiled. I saw the smeared words I can't at the beginning of my entry and decided to edit my life. I led the pen upward and wrote 'alone'. I can't do it alone.

I finished and then slipped the entry into the drawer burying it beneath the Bible. I left it so that the next time someone utters 'I can't' they know they aren't alone. I wonder if anyone will ever find it. I wonder if they already did.

You Don't Need Math To Know That You Are Part of the Problem ...or The Solution

[original picture/upload]

12....11...10...9.....8.....
11....10...9...8.....
10.....9.....8....
9...8...



8.

Eight days and 56 seconds until the day. Eight days from my birthday. Eight until my death.

"Ms.A are you sick?"Bradley the subtle, sandy-colored hair, and freckled face 4th grader inquires. "No brad, please finish the problem", I replied short and not amused. "But, Ms. A if I don't have a problem then how can I solve it?" Suddenly I jerk my head up consumed by his apparently obvious question. If there isn't a problem then how can there be a solution? I was easily distracted for the next 12 minutes.

Here I sat in a dumpy old elementary school 8 days before my birthday. 8 days before my life should be changing forever. I only have 8 days to accomplish everything I should have accomplished before I grew too bored with what I already accomplished.I found myself suddenly consumed with anger and frustration. I thought I was over the whole elementary tid-bit. I am mature. But, here I was at least a decade later right back where I started. Granted, I was the teacher this time, not the student. Still though I wondered, 'how much had I really learned'.

"Let me see that Brad", I instructed. I grasped quickly for his pencil and all too eager for his notepad. Equation after equation and number after number I vigorously scribbled down problem after problem. Some of them were word problems, some of them were numerical , and some weren't even visible. All of them belonged to me. I stared blankly at the page once I finished mentally purging. Brad quietly looked up, afraid to ask if I was done..or what I had created. "My life," I informed him. "This, this is my life and these are all of my problems, and sometimes adults need help sorting through the math of it all." I mumbled barely louder than a whisper. "I'm just lost. I don't know who to ask for help, or where to start and some problems just don't have answers." I bravely continued blurting out more than I had intended to.

"Do you like us?"spoke up a voice nearby, it was only a few foot steps away. It is Sarah the hazel eyed 'tom boy' of the class. "like, don't ya wanna teach us?", another child chimed in. Suddenly I was surrounded by a group of about 6 students all too eager to question my intentions in this misty lil box of a classroom. "It's not that easy" I interjected. I want to teach, I love teaching. I tried to scream at them but, failed. "These are all my problems, if you solve them I will stay", I spoke. I was content with those words. They were a challenge, a loop hole.

"Ok," three of them grabbed at the pencil at once. They'll never solve this. "Well why can't we just add them all and subtract 'frusraioun' (frustration)?!" demanded Scott. "...and then we can borrow from 'strangth' and multiply ummm hope" "Haha, really?!" I asked suspicious of where they were headed. Suddenly Brad grabs my hand. He leans closer and whispers in my ear-afraid I can't hear through my hijab (scarf)"Ms. A I know the answer."

Brad once asked if i would marry him and I prayed this wasn't his 'answer' to all my problems. Marriage was already on my list of issues. "Kayla stop and give brad the paper he has an answer." Kayla was a little more than eager to hand Brad the sheet back. Brad looks up at me with darting eyes, pleading for permission. I nod in approval. Brad takes the sheet, gently lifting the corners and flips it over.He stares down, ill content with his choice. So he flips his hand over to where his pad of paper lay and rips out a new sheet. "Here Ms. A", he instructs me. "Let's start over." He gently smiles up at me.

My checks flush a brilliant hue of bronze and a twinkle is in my eye. I don't think he knows what he's done for me. I'm onto him. I tell the others to listen for Brads 'explanation'. "Ms. A if you're too busy worrying, you'll worry about worrying and fail at everything cause you're worried." He squints his eyes contemplating his next move. He pulls off his eraser and instead rips half of my 'problems' page in half. "& if you're too scared to do new things because of all your old baggage then you won't ever do anything."

"PUT IT IN THE CLOSET", yelps out Shelbie. She looks ashamed. "..well when my aunt visits and she has too much baggage we put it in the closet." Scott grabs the paper and rips off about another fourth. Brad smiles, "Then all your left with is this", he seemed confused about what to do next. I grabbed the remaining sheet and lay it on his 'fresh' sheet of paper. "YES!", he suddenly beams. "we can borrow from all the stuff you already know, and are already doing right and add onto it."

"But I still have to live my life and fulfill all of my dreams" I remind him. I'm content in knowing there's no way they can solve this equation. "But I know you will." He glances up from his creation to inform me, "You wanted to teach us, and then you did." Kayla speaks, "Ms. A you can't wait your whole life to live it."

I can't wait. I glance at my watch well aware that math is now over. So, I dismiss the kids to recess, finally prepared to be alone. I count the smiles on each of the accomplished faces of my math 'squad'. 2...4....6...8.

8. I looked down at the warm piece of hope in my hands.

There it is, a blue-lined wrinkled little piece of paper. It's a 1/4 of my past and 1/4 of my present. I pick up Brads pencil he left on the table and quickly draw a line down 1/2 of the page. I scribble in Scott, Kayla, Brad, Shelbie, Jace, Jessie, Samantha, and Brett. 8. I left room to add more, I left room to 'borrow' from their strength and 'carry' it into my present. But for now I was content as they had solved my problem.. They solved it, for presently they are my future. They are my beautiful 1/2 of a page.

You are the best definition of good intention.
So again, the teacher became the student.

And She Was The Last Bit of Something That Meant Anything...

All along I knew there was something missing.

Too bad that something was me. Decades upon days, months, years and seconds of deen, ambition, and character molding have fashioned into this pivotal moment. It's that moment when tears can't fill eyes anymore and words won't allow justice. It's in those seconds when you realize the burdens of the world have abandoned you with yourself.There is no struggle or burden which Allah (swt) places on any soul which it can not handle. So why do I feel like I'm the most vulnerable soul?

I know what happened though, I know where it all went wrong.Every time I try to be what someone has thought of me I got so caught up, I wasn't able to achieve. And deep in my heart the answer it was in me. But, still I searched.

"Hayati, if you ask for a rose you must respect the thorn", my fathers promise when I was barely 4yrs of age now rings in my ears. Its defining simplicity blindingly rings true. I asked for this. But nothing feels like home and my heart is a 1,000 miles away. Ya rab, please forgive my incapacity to carry this load of stress. I really am trying my best. And now we wait to see what happens when this girls best just isn't enough.

I'm Not Paralyzed But, I Seem To Be Struck by You...

"Let my memories flood over you as you sleep.
I will wait for the day when you capture me in that essence.
Then our two will be one."

You come over unannounced. Silence broken by your voice in the dark. I need you here tonight just like the ocean needs the waves.

People disappoint me. In all honesty why must humanity be so cruel? I went to a 'gathering' tonight. You know the ones designed by a couple of your closest friends to pit you up with some of the less close of your closer people. The awkward-text-while-acting-busy/distracted set-up.On the way home I couldn't help but, to think how blessed I was to be headed home. Then, it happened.

A friend of mine texted me something about my family. I don't think it would have hurt so much if it wasn't true, but it was. He said, "Congrats! On your lil brother". My brothers live in Texas. The girls do not. My parents decided sans me that this would change....overnight. I wish I would be clued into 'family' decisions. There is something about hearing things through the grapevine that really chills me to the bone. When it impacts me directly it matter more. But, I guess that's how everyone feels. This world is so selfish.

Yet, again I realize my friends are plagued by temptations from Saytan (and gave in). My parents are out to destroy me (despite their pleasant smiles and best intentions), my new roomate is stalking me (no joke), and I have another marriage proposal as of Friday. I did what I do best run and then take shelter.

This roughly translates to updating my blogger (like the changes?),de-activating my facebook (again), ignoring all 32 text/hr, jogging for 4 hrs straight, telling my mom I'm disappointed in her, and refusing to eat for 3 days. I'm not depressed though. Resentful and coping maybe that I am.

It's just sometimes I don't have the energy to prove everybody wrong... Or posses the will to stand up and pretend I'm strong. They all took their turns. Now when is my chance to give up?