I'd Go Around A Time or Two Just To Waste My Time With You...

August 02. 2009

This is the story of a blog(her) who looked like the sun and breathed like the clouds, spreading light when she smiled and darkness when she faded. Too bad, she didn't know her own worth. She kept her days busied with being alive but, never with living. No, no, she wasn't ungrateful of the life nor the blessings which shower her, rather she was just drowning in all the opportunities she had. So she journaled often, scribbling down thoughts, noting that attitudes are contagious, wondering if hers was worthy of catching, but never passing it on. But that's the problem with worthy people and good advice, it's always needed, rarely expressed, and often scribbled. So she scribbles often, here or maybe there but, never in the air. If you reveal your secrets to the wind she says, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees. And so to herself the untapped ability remains.

But, tonight it all changed...

Tonight I wrote down what I truly want out of life, a package of 38 pastel sharpies, fresh sidewalk chalk, bubble mint gum (for 2 people) , the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of water running through. I want air that smells of grass with dew nestled atop it, and children eating Popsicles while running through sprinklers. I want a mother to scold her son for running through the house with shoes on and a couple on the street to whisper about it all. I want that couple to be me and whomever he maybe. But, how pretell am I to tell my parents that in the final semester of schooling I want to leave. I want to sip mango peach chai atop a stoop in Espana (Spain). I want to chase geese in the streets and ride a bicycle to work. I want to work for minimum wage at a small school where the kids can't pronounce my name and I like it. I want my job descriptions to include opening up juice boxes and pouring Lego's onto the floor. I want to grow my hair long and maybe a few tomatoes. Then deep, deep into the night,I'd gaze out into the night sky and write love letters to the moon. And almost in complete jealousy you'd play a lullaby to the sun.

We confess to little faults only to persuade ourselves that we have no great ones. But, of course we do. And if her only fault was that she missed out on love, it's no fault worth taking. She'd wrong a 1000 times over to miss the taste of love just once. And so, I confess my weaknesses to the wind and pray not that God make my load any lighter but, rather he make my shoulders stronger. And should He in that guide my love letter to the moon and the stars fall down onto you, then I will be happy.

Because in the end love has no desire but to fulfill itself.

I Like it in The City When Two Worlds Collide-- Conversations W/Muslims

At 3 I was able to tell you what I wanted to be, a dancer, lawyer, interior decorator, forensics specialist, house wife, counselor, and before I learned that it was impossible, a daddy. Yes, this creative mind has been ticking every since the wee fetal days and for as much has changed one thing has remained, passion. It started with a spark, which is increasing in size, determined to spread. Eventually, I won't be able to contain to the volcano of creativity and I will explode. No, no, this is not a threat. This is reality. I thought perhaps with a blog, Twitter, and other such time-wasters, my imagination would be satisfied but, alas it is not. So what's next? Why, a book of course.


Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm pretty much obsessed with anonymous based-initiatives. PostSecret is an ongoing community mail art project, created by Frank Warren, in which people mail their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard.What alot of people do not know is that Post-Secret was a simple idea created to heal a hurtful situation.The simple concept of the project was that completely anonymous people decorate a postcard and portray a secret that they had never previously revealed.

No restrictions are made on the content of the secret; only that it must be completely truthful and must never have been spoken before. Entries range from admissions of sexual misconduct and criminal activity to confessions of secret desires, embarrassing habits, hopes and dreams.

Since Frank Warren created the website on January 1, 2005, PostSecret has collected and displayed upwards of 2,500 original pieces of art from people across the United States and around the world. I want to be Frank Warren. No, no, this doesn't mean I still think I can be a daddy. But, this does mean that I want to help people, help themselves, through themselves. A single confession on PostSecret caused a girl 'Cassie', to realize she is not alone in her pain. This single post card helped to prevent her suicide.

Now, I'm no Jesus, and don't think myself a savior. In fact, I don't expect for my 'project' to be as significant as Post-Secret but, I do hope to lessen the load of American Muslims. As an American-Muslim I know the struggle to maintain a healthy Islamic foundation while still balancing the expectations of a western society and culture. My hope, my dream, is to inspire Muslims locally, globally, and universally, to be proud of who and what they are not who and what they are expected to be. Be a skater boy if you must, just don't forget to pray. The idea is to experience, not exploit, the Muslim-American culture from a Muslim perspective. Some of the material will be funny. Some of it will not. Some of the material will be offensive. Some of the material will be inspirational. But, all of the material will be real. Eventually, I hope to publish these Muslim Experiences in a Journal. But, for now they are simply Conversations W/Muslims.




[If you have a conversation,experience,or story to tell, let it be heard! Email Perplxintexan@gmail.com]

Friday Fragments//Jumu'ah Jottings # 7-- & Now I'm Stuck Swimming In Your Thoughts, or Perhaps Drowning in My Own

The good news is I don't have strep, the bad news is it's Bronchitis. Which actually sucks way more than strep because it impacts my actually breathing and last for twice the amount of time as strep. The good news, again, however is that because I can barely breathe I don't do alot of eating which resulted in a 8lb weight loss over the past week. Remember the whole rant on how Lent was resulting in my weight gain, will now I have the results I was searching for. But, are they in the method I hoped, most certainly not. So this week's lesson is about being careful about what you wish for. How often it is we sigh saying "I wish that was me" or "I wish things were different" But, do we really? Dreams however are golden, they aren't like wishes. They are subconscious guides, the thing is they talk but, how often are we listening?Great souls have wills; feeble ones have only wishes.


Friday Fragments//Jumuah Jottings #7

I attended my alma-matters (high school) fundraiser dinner last weekend--that's probably how I got broncho. Anyways, my semi-cousins were there.

The youngest one had a birthday, and I spent all day searching for the 'perfect gift'.I finally bought the toy the two year old always wanted. He would always tap on the TV when the commercial for it would appear. I give him the present, and he starts playing with the bag.

GRrr!

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How does everyone like the new layout? A banner would help huh? Perhaps, once the laziness subsides. Any suggestions other than a banner?
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Over Heard Moments in Ptexan's Life:

Fat preppy girl: Oh my god! Is that a rhinoceros? I didn't know they still existed!
Friend: Yeah, that's one right there.
Preppy girl: But I thought dinosaurs were extinct?

Female customer: Do you guys have the Wizard of Oz?
Salesperson: Uh, I think that would be in "foreign."-- Yes because Oz also existed.

Extremely loud PTA 'Parent': Okay, let me check on that for you. That is "c" as in "Sam"?--yeaaaah.
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I finally get to use an fml on behalf of my sister. Today, we went shopping at Macy's for swimsuits with my mom. She told my mom that she hated all the suits there, and that she wanted to get them at Dick's Sporting Goods instead. My mother then said, in a loud voice, "STOP BEING SO OBSESSED WITH DICKS!" Half the store stared at her.

FHERLIFE

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Did You Know?!

• Did you know that on July 8th 2009 at 5 minutes and 6 seconds after 4am it will be 040506070809 and that this will NEVER happen again for 100 years?
• A shrimp's heart is in its head.
• Like fingerprints, everyone's tongue print is different.

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My brother called me today to ask, "If you came with instructions, what would they say?" I considered:Caution contents may be hot but, then I decided on warning objects are closer than they appear. Take that as you please.
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Word of the Week

'Opposite Marriage'

The P.C. way to specify the legal union of a man and a woman, as made popular by Miss California at the 2009 Miss USA pageant.

MISS CALIFORNIA: "We live in a land that you can choose same sex marriage or opposite marriage"

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My father wants me to visit him this summer. I would except he agitates me. I love him dearly, I just don't exactly like him.

I will further consult myself and possibly blog about it later.
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Many of you must be accustomed to a dishwasher but a better part of the world still hand washes the dishes. They either towel dries them or puts them up in racks for air drying. No doubt air-drying is a better method and to max this is the Trio Dish Drier. What’s special about this one, is that it’s got these cute little containers at the bottom of the rack that houses herbs. Essentially, the residual water from the washed dishes trickles down to the plants to water them. Nice!

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Not gonna lie I was semi-depressed that no one commented on my last post. So I stopped posting as a punishment to you non-commenters. Of course it was about this time that I realized the post had been saved as a draft for two days and then I had accidentally disabled comments. :|

Forgive me readers? I'll give you candy :)
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(Forgot to post this Easter pic)

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Ron Paul delivers babies without his hands. He simply reads them the
Bill of Rights and they crawl out in anticipation of freedom.
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I fail at being an elementary school teacher.

A 5 year old boy asked me "What do you do when you really want something?". I told him to try his best to get it and give it his best. He ended up stealing from the donation box and when he was caught he said that I told him to do it.

(whoops, my bad)

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Useless information I learn as a Marriage and Family Relationship therapist

(coming soon, i.e. post sleep.)

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All My Loving is Sent To You...

Everyone knows him, he's the kid who has everything. He stares effortlessly into everyone's soul. His smile resonates throughout a room, into the darkest of caves and the blackest of hearts. he's every girls dream. He is loved by all and hated by none except, her. Boy meets girl. "I hate you", she scowls out. Suddenly he's breathless. He's taken aback by her beauty and grace. Now he realizes all the barriers within himself that allow him to be perfection. It is denial and conformity that have allowed him to be this way. More than any other soul he was trapped. "Thank you", he whispers back. All of his barriers come crashing down within him, he is finally released.Now he is miserable. He's in love. And, it's all her fault.

I want to write a book. I want this to be the introduction. I want it to be about the greatest love that almost was. Unfortunately, most of it is based on a true story. Fortunately, I can re-write their fate. I can finally edit my worth. I've documented most of my journeys over the past 5 years in lace, lined, and trimmed paper. About 2 years ago I decided I would keep every journal I ever tainted and one day do the unimaginable.

On my daughters 16th birthday I hope to grant her two things: peace, and opportunity. Granted all of this would take place years from now, AFTER I actually HAVE a daughter. But, I hope to give her my old journals and a blank one of her own. It would give her peace of mind and the opportunity of a lifetime.It'll be an abstract symbol for the past, present, and her blank future. I hope to inspire and guide her through my jottings and mistakes but, more than that I hope she can acknowledge and recognize the growth. It's not only the physical curves and loops of my inked writing but, my spiritual and mental capability. I hope she sees where it all started and she dreams about where it ends. I've not decided at what age I will discontinue the journalings to my unborn daughter. All I know is that as blessed as I am with a more than capable mother I wish she would communicate her strength in other forms. Sometimes trying isn't enough and actions can't do justice to words. Sometimes it's by examining others' flaws we come to realize our strengths. It's the paradox of love and hate, strength and weakness. I more than want but, need to give her a piece of me.

"Do it and risk your soul", that's what he says. Your looking at your journals through sacred eyes but, don't be so sure it won't backfire. My friends want to protect me from my own unborn daughter but, I know better. Or at least I hope I do. And if she gains nothing else from my shouted cursive and moody tales I hope she finishes. I hope she finds the strength I've never had and finishes my unpublished tale of the greatest love that almost was.

2 months later she sits alone on a sidewalk. Schools over rated and sometimes she doesn't have the energy to prove everybody wrong. She takes out a pen and scribbles on the sidewalk 'lies make the world go 'round'. He sees her from a distant afraid to approach. But, with all of his walls broken down and no reservations he veers in closer, all to eager to feel her heart beat. She's fragile. She's vulnerable. He loves it. She looks up at him and caresses his face."Lie to me", she says. "I love you" he whispers.

Just because we are forbidden to touch does not mean that your love does not light my ocean

I wish I would let him start believing in me. Maybe he won't look too hard into my heart. He might cause this flustered heart to pulse with a beat undeniable. 'Just let him care already'...'what's the worse that could happen?' my friends are all too eager to advice my situations in life. Oh, but I can't.I won't.

Then something happened. Late one misty Autumn sunset afternoon this girl walks home from class. There he is. I look away as though I hadn't spotted him across the courtyard.He glances up with a smirk in his eyes and a smile on that sun kissed face. My heart does a double take and my eyes flash forward. Concentrate, I tell myself. You don't like him. You can't like him. Oh hell! Since when do I like him?! I slow trying steady my pace. Subconsciously I was now tip toeing toward him. We 'accidentally' walk at the same speed now. We are two magnets growing closer, casually colliding.Little did I know how literal this would become.

He slowly glides over "Hey you, salams.." I try and act disinterested and maybe even annoyed. He notices. We keep up with the small chat. I nod and agree where I see fit. 45 mins roll past un-aware of this attraction. Always I remember to never seem intrigued. Our small unsuspecting glares throw my heart into a rampant fit of fire. Somewhere in the trying to concentrate on not looking concentrated I stopped walking. I look up into his auburn colored eyes and glare at my fate. It's beautiful.

Then something happened. "Why are you so stubborn?", he asks. The question throws me off. "Well do you want the long,short, or honest answer?" I settle in with a cool confidence. I must never appear caught off guard I remind myself.He thinks about this for about 5 seconds finally ending with a light chuckle. "Well I expect a lie, know the truth, and hope it's short." "Ugh!" I moan out. See this is why I can't stand guys, they never know what they want, it's always a guessing game. And I'm pretty darn good at games but, I don't have time for this one. I don't even really love him. Heck, I don't even like him! I'm in love with the idea of being in love. I'm not ashamed to admit he's more of a muse than a pleasure either. He's a confidence booster, a smile that never fails. I could handle this. "well, do inform this girl of why she is SO stubborn" I mock, challenging his words. He cocks his head sides ways, leaning in a little closer. At first I stop breathing unaware of what might escape his lips next.

[To Be Continued...]

And I Know I'll Think I'm Satisfied But, It Won't Last...

No, not the dream where we all unite as one nation, under god--that's scheduled for next Thursday @ 5pm right after the 3pm 'learn to fly' appointment. The other dream, the dream that I held so true. The dream where the Muslim youth of North America realize they are no longer the voices of tomorrow; for tomorrow exists in the children of today. The same dream where I stand on stage one foot in front of the other, mic in hand vision in voice.Well, as of Friday May 22,2008 at 8:45 pm right along with Sir Martin Luther King Jr. my dreams came true. And, as quickly as they were fulfilled they were taken away.

The Jum3uah sermon I attended whilst in Dallas, Texas that very evening blared in my mind,"If you don't have the attitude for gratitude Allah (swt) will surely replace you and it with a person more grateful."Sometimes it seems it's so easy to forget how much we have as humans, as Americans. So easy it is to forget where we came from, who we came from, and what we are here for. I regretfully forgot.

I, the simple Midwest blogger, with ambitious dreams of unity thorough diversity am a part of Voices for Change. Yes, Voices for Changes. The very contest I hoped and prayed for so very long ago. Muslim youth standing for their deen yet not lacking talent. I was selected out of 100's maybe 1,000's in the nation to become the opening act for Outlandish and The Sound of Reason.

Excited?

So was I. And I think that's where my problem lies.

And, maybe it is just another test. Maybe, something will happen to him (the newly named current winner) and I will again regain my position as #1. Or, maybe there is a hidden meaning in the fact that I was named 1st then 2nd. Maybe, I lost sight of my vision....my purpose. I entered as a humble southern girl with an attitude for change. I wanted to inspire,motivate, and drive other Muslims especially the youth to see the beauty not the curse in being an American Muslim. We have a voice. We have the power. And, though this closely resembles a Barack Obama speech it's not. It is determination. And, I lost sight of all of that.


"But, if you pray 5 times a day....everyday....how could you ever forget your lord?", spoke the 12yr old with hazel eyes and pig tails. If at every interval of our lives, every fragment of our beings we are truly giving thanks to Allah (swt) for what we have, and, who we are how could we ever forget? Welp, in all the excitement of the phone call, the free tickets, and overall glory I forgot the most glorified of all. And, even more amazing is that it took 3 days, 15 hours, and 21 students from a Catholic elementary school, at an inter-faith dialog to ask "how could you" before it even occurred that Allah (swt) was sending a sign.

"True merit, like a river, the deeper it is, the less noise it makes."

~Edward Frederick Halifax

Lesson in humility learned. And so here, I sit 4 days, 29 hours, 16 seconds after that fateful 'win' realizing that if I had took but a second to thank the one entity that granted it all, it might still be mine.

It Won't Be Soon Before Long....

"And The World Lies In Your Hands Little One..."

And she had a dream,

"I could never convince the financiers that Disneyland was feasible, because dreams offer too little collateral."

-Walt Disney.

Ok, so maybe I don't exactly want to design a destination ruled by a big-eared, musically talented, talking mouse. No need for whimsical creatures fueled by laughter, magic, and imagination. What I do need though is a chance.

I've deiced that when I die I hope the poor, youthful, and ignorant miss me. And due to a recent occurrence at a youth seminar; I found myself forced on stage. And with mic in hand I spoke. This performance later became known as my 'comedy routine' for apparently Allah made me funny. I disagree with the audiences thoughts of my comical abilities for I feel I have none....but so the story goes. After such allegations of me being a Muslim comedian I did a little research. What is a 'Muslim comedian'? What I found was a little discouraging. In my results I found about 21 established 'Muslim comedians' [[or those of such nature (UmmahFilms). ]] And of those 21, I found only about 6 of which are actually entertaining. Of those 6 I found 0 that are female.

I've decided that the people need something. That something is me. Maybe it's wishful thinking OR the fact that the majority of my day was spent watching Azhar Usman and various MYNA/MSA skits from the past and thus, I feel inspired. OR Maybe it's the fact that I think the world is afraid of Islam and Muslims. Maybe my comedy can ease the tensions between the Muslims and Non-Muslims ...or better yet, tie the common blood between Israelis and Palestinians. Oh wait that's Facebooks' job. (Bad timing..I know)Either way, we need a voice. We are people and need to heard. So here I go one foot in front of the other, mic in one hand ...deen in another onto the stage of life. I'm willing to speak but, will anybody listen?