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.

Would You Rather Wednesday #23- Would You Rather Only Listen (to Others) or Never Listen at all?

'Would You Rather Wednesday' is a segment started in my 4th grade classroom to anonymously answer intimidating or circumstantial questions. I beg my students to be the change they wish to see in the world, the only problem is that they're succeeding.The more I challenge their child-like morals the longer my list of shattered preconceived notions becomes. This week's question was "Would you rather only listen (to Others) or never listen at all?
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After writing the question upon the tainted chalkboard I stood back and asked for thoughts. I wasn't sure if this was just another elementary style challenge or if they really had no thoughts. I convinced myself that no person ever has no thoughts. So I looked back at them and decided to not speak either. One child raised his hand and asked "Ms.A , is that your answer?" I wondered what in the world he thought was the question. I tried ignoring him but his pale, freckled skin looked so ashamed and so I caved. "Brian, is what the answer?", I demanded--slightly annoyed. "Well, you asked would we rather listen forever or never listen at all, and well you aren't talking so I thought maybe that was your answer, always listen."

I informed him that I was waiting. Waiting does not equate listening. I told him that if I had to choose I would most assuredly choose to never listen at all. I heard one of my students grumble that I was selfish. And, despite the fact that I am selfish that is NOT why I choose this answer. I explained to my students that it is my job to help them learn. My choice is to help them be the very best people they possibly can and if through some method of never listening I was able to talk and instead have them listen then I would have done my duty. "Yeah, but is that enough?!"-- Sarah the child who I heard whisper me selfish chanted back. And then I began to think, that the way in which I've gotten to teach is through learning. I have accomplished such learning through listening. If I never listen and I never learn than who am I to possibly teach?

And there it is, I thought these kids had pulled one over on me again but, they didn't. I remembered my grandmothers soft Spanish words ring in my ear "Never argue with a fool, for he might be doing the same thing." So i opened my mouth and looked across the room, thrice. "knowledge is not a gift, it's an opportunity." I continued by explaining to my children that not all knowledge is experienced through the pursuit of knowledge, some knowledge comes from others' ignorance. I told the students that I believe that as a teacher it would be better for me to never listen and for them to possibly learn from the mistakes they instead witnessed me making. I concluded with a slight smirk and absolute satisfaction in myself. "Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes, so I will give mine to you."

I had done it. I was the teacher, I run this. And then he raised his hand.

"But what about GOD?" I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I didn't hear him but, he just kept speaking. 'NO!' I told myself this is the best answer, it fits. But, he just kept speaking, "I've been talking to God, I don't know if he's listening or not and he never speaks directly to me but, that's ok because, he's always listening." HE is the best answer.Damn, I should've known that answer. And so again, and all too often, the student had become the teacher.

Maybe I should learn to listen.

And I've Come To Find Refuge In The Easy Silence You Bring...

You know what agitates me?

Creeperbook. I feel like it really has a purpose but, somewhere in invites to zombie wars, poking, stalking, groups of people who 'need numbers! Dropped/Broke phones', flirting via wall posts, and status updates about Twilight and Dark Knight I completely missed it. That being said, I went on a 3 day hiatus.

Almost every morn for the past 2 weeks I've awoken with three thoughts: Getting married, gaining weight, and death. Yes, in that order. Forever it confused me why these 3 thoughts plagued my mind and today I had the epiphany. Yes, the epiphany which always grants me clarity. It is the reason I've hit the gym 5 times in 3 days, de-activated the Stalkbook, and have resorted to talking in 3rabi.

Sense of control lost.

I can't currently control my weight. I'm not gaining, but I'm not loosing. I have no clue when I'm getting married, who I'm getting married to, OR even IF/WHY I'll get married. And, given the 3 birthday parties I've been to in 2 days I know death is nearer rather than further. And yest still I waste away time like it's infinite. So what's this simple Southern Belle to do...

Guitar Hero, of course.

In other news has anyone seen the new McDonald's commercial with the African girl i America speaking Arabic to the African American? Oh the irony of the whole commercial. I'm slightly disappointed and still amused. I've learned to play 'Sexy Can I' on the keyboard. The Jonas Brothers just purchased a house in the same gated community complex as my dads. I went to the local Hookah bar for a bday bash. It still amazes me how it is the one location in which gender, nationality, and religion have no existence in our community. The one place of haram is where they all unite. Oh the irony of that statement.

So tell me what does it mean now that I've discovered a Miley Cyrus song is a musical summary of my current life....

I Close My Eyes So That I Can See...

"Let the miracles rush in"
[[actual photo]]

The rain trickles down my nose and I feel my cheeks flush hot red. I run inside my room, it's temperature is a minty shelter of heat. I stand on my tippy toes glancing from the pier and see the bright parade of umbrellas which seemingly march on their own, like little ants across the campus square.Each of the different colors makes the sidewalk seem so alive, happy, and liberated. I push my bed into the very center of my room,just cause I can, and there I sit, still moist from the rain, and there I hide. I bury myself deep beneath my fluffed and pampered sheets. Then, I smile. I giggle and think 'now, I'm safe'.

It's precisely days like this where the rain won't stop and the wind sings a song I want hot cocoa. It's the minutes slowly ticking by with such precision that I remember. It's the world that matters not it's people. It's times I like this I wish I could capture forever. It's these type of seconds that I wish I was married. Married not for the title or the commitment but just so I would have a partner to get lazy with my love.

I went on a trip last weekend, spelunking. Although I must admit it wasn't my ideal weekend, I give the coordinator my undying gratitude. No pun intended. Even now as I try scanning my vocabulary of SAT prep words I find none that describe what happened that fatal evening in Marengo Caves. The short version however, is that I attended a youth training seminar about God's miracles and life after death. We went through every step of the 'dieing' process ..but not verbally. We lay in mock graves, listened to about 10 minutes of tears and condolences from our 'family and friends'. Then the 'coffins' were lowered. Silently we sat listening to a CD were we were asked every question imaginable regarding our actions/deeds/and intentions while on this Earth. I've never been so touched. Even I the concrete angel who never exposes delicate emotion....cried.

It's different once you're gone. All I could remember were all things I meant to do. Every time I meant to say something. Knowing as I lay in those tight spaces that there was a chance I may not escape, the regret poured in. Now almost a week has passed since I got back from that fateful weekend. Still everyone wonders why I have a sudden pep in step and giggle in my voice. My friends all have their guesses: a raise at work, good grades, new car, some even guessed a new love. The truth is I found a new love, Islam. And,you would too if you had died.

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?

The Miseducation of Myself...

The Only Problem With Burning Bridges Behind You Is That The Earth is Round

Epiphany # 241 [The 'bum']

I love him.

The feeling his warm and tender face gives me is beyond inviting. Living is about more than being alive. Every person we encounter we must allow ourselves to experience. Every soul is a bridge and has a story, so what's his?

As I glanced upon the dampened cobble stone on my way to work I stumbled upon an embittered creature. His soul is as gentle as an angel, I can feel it. But, I know that the harsh realities of life have captured him. His gaze is steady upon my every motion. He counts each time I inhale. My chest heaves in and out but, not because of my breathing. I can't. I can't catch my breath. A group of school children walk by glaring and pointing. "There he is", the eldest of the brats yelp towards him. He shutters away into a darkened corner near an ally. I still stand frozen. Every person is bridge. The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn. So was he my bridge or was I his? I feel tears well up in my eyes unable to control my thoughts. I take two steps forward when I do more than watch him. I look into his auburn eyes and feel him. He's more terrified of me than I could ever be of him.

Finally, I grab the strength to turn and walk. Suddenly he speaks. "I'm afraid too", he says almost in a gentle whisper. "I have kids, a wife, a life...I just don't know what happened to them", he told me a bit stronger in tone. "Oh" is all I could manage to say. I realize now not what he is but, what I've forced him to become. Society shuns him, gawking at his every attempt of being human. They each walk right past him like a another stone in the pavement, like another leaf on a tree. But, he's more than that. And, I had allowed myself to become one of them.

"Ya know, girlie...life is like trying to lick honey from a throned rose. You just gotta bite through the pain to experience the sweetness." I can tell he hasn't always been this way. I shoot him a smile and hold my head up high. Time dragged on much slower though. He went out his way to make mine easier. Still, he is a bum. I did not dare give him a dollar though, I gave him something more. I gave him a chance.

He is my bridge. I sat with him for about an hour each minute growing more comfortable.He is on some hard times but, he's grateful for every moment.He tells me stories, shares his wisdom and, I've grown to cherish that greasy smile.

There is something within him that makes me want to be a better person....

He's dirty but pure, evil and gentle. He sees the world through a different light; a light that has to be witnessed from inside out. He's accomplished all that's expected of him as a husband, father, and patriot. Still he is hated by most and feared by all. "And when the falling of your tears make a candle disappear, find a way to shine." He is more than a physical.

He is my bridge.
I love him. And, I want to be just like him when I grow up.