Ramadan 2014 Day 26, Thursday, July 24

And so the Night of Power has arrived, Laylat al-Qadr (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laylat_al-Qadr).  The first verses of the Quran were revealed within these last 10 nights; given to Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) by Allah (swt).  Many mosques around the world complete the recitation of the Book within this time during the extra night prayers (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taraweeh).  And talk about spirituality, phew!

Imagine for yourself going through a whole day of fasting and prayer then breaking fast at which time your non-functioning brain pretty much wants to stop working altogether.  You just want to lie down and stop moving.  Instead you have to do the final evening prayer which you somehow manage to squeeze out, or at least that’s how it is for me.  I’m fairly certain far more divine individuals than me don’t try to quite rush it, they take their time and wring out every ounce of usefulness from the prayer.  Me?  I do the ‘user lite’ version.  Actually it wasn’t always like that.

Back in the day, your girl (that’s me) used to be a Sunday school teacher.  Get off the floor and quit laughing please.  I’ll have you know I was pretty good, the kindergarteners I was responsible for loved me and it was completely voluntary, starting off as a fluke for nefarious reasons to be sure.  My girlfriend, who I had met at school, and I decided that we wanted to get more ‘involved’ in the community.  What did this mean?  Were we that socially conscious at the age of 16 and 14 respectively?  Um…no.  We wanted to do what most girls our age wanted to do…meet boys.  And since meeting American boys were pretty much unworkable for us, we decided that we needed to loiter at the mosque more.

That was the beginning of a long love affair (with the mosque).  The love of the children and the joy of teaching took us back every Sunday, something we did for years.  Once I became involved in the mosque, my family quickly followed suit and soon enough instead of praying Taraweeh at home, we would join the congregation.  Back then during my childhood Ramadan fell during the winter months (remember the Islamic calendar runs for 11 months) and even though the benefits of this was shorter fasting days, it also meant freezing cold weather, ice, snow, etc…

My mother was pretty firm that we should go regardless of the climate, and I mean adamant, hence even if we ‘fell asleep’ after breaking fast (of course out of pure exhaustion…but not really, for the most part we didn’t want to go out in the crappy weather) she would take a cattle prod (no not really, her glares were more than enough) to poke us into motion.  And off we went bundled up in our heaviest coasts and our clunkiest boots.  One never knew after 2 hours of praying what one would be greeted by outside.  On a few occasions it was a blanket of ice, on others there was snow gracing windshields.

The Night of Power though was exciting.  We would get specially dressed well ahead of time, having made plans to meet up with friends at the mosque so we could “pray” together.  Now why did I put that particular word in quotes?  Because even though we did pray, the fact was back then when the mosque was still at its infancy, the view from the women’s section into the men’s was direct, or at least half of it was.  We younger girls would ‘conveniently’ find the only space to stand to pray in the area which was open so we could check out the guys.  Yup, that’s what we did.  I admit it.  I’m calling myself out.  I won’t call out any of my other friends, because y’all know who you are.  Let me tell you what though, made Taraweeh almost fun!  Many eons later my mom told me with a knowing smile that she knew exactly what we girls were up to and thought it funny and normal. 

Once at the mosque parents would separate from kids and the rest of the night was spent in a crush of humanity all trying to beg forgiveness to Allah (swt) for their transgressions and ask him for his benevolence.  Back then I barely heard the dua (the prayer) that we made, far too wrapped up in flirting or talking about boys.  But as age has settled in, the words of the Imam started to sink in, mean something, and become powerful.

Tonight I stayed up, praying.  Sitting on the prayer mat crying.  I had logged into the mosque to pray along and at the end when the Imam launched into the dua, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.  One could hear the sobbing reverberating from all corners of the gigantic room.  My mother who was there in person confirmed it was exceptionally emotional.  As the Imam spoke, asking for forgiveness and benevolence from the Almighty, his voice broke around the words regarding the conflict in Palestine.  No, it wasn’t about Muslim’s dying, although we all knew that there was a vast majority who instead of buying Eid clothes were being buried instead, the message was about human suffering, the tragedy that was unfolding.  The tears were for all of humanity.

Anyhow, I pray that everyone’s prayers have been heard and that Allah (swt) is listening, particularly for the peace of those who are suffering around the world.

Anyhow…Happy Ramadaning.

Ramadan 2014 Day 25, Wednesday, July 23

I read the most ridiculous thing on FB yesterday, so preposterous that a part of my brain may have just died.  The fact that I don’t have that much grey matter betwixt the ears to start with creates a problem which makes me resent anyone who tries to dispose of the last bit that I possess.  I’m fiercely protective of that last teaspoon.

Anyhow, I’ve been pretty passionate about this whole Israel-Gaza conflict.  I also haven’t been precisely quiet about it.  Other than the two blogs I posted regarding the whole mess, I’ve been systematically trying to create awareness on FB.  For all the evils of social media, which there are many (i.e. inability to communicate live and in person, laziness, etc), it is also equally a strong tool to be reckoned with.

Truth be told, we no longer need to run to our senators and congressmen, parliament members or elected officials to have our voices heard.  We don’t even have to rally on the streets nor write angry letters that probably will never been seen.  Oh, that’s not to say that all these options aren’t actually good ones and haven’t been tried, tested and proven effective.  Now, however, you can sit behind a computer monitor or pull out a smartphone from just about anywhere and launch a campaign with a few well-chosen words and pics attached.  Before you know it, a cause has been born and folks who are 30,000 miles are suddenly joined together in solidarity (sometimes opposition). 

Like it or not, social media is here to stay and it’s a powerful tool.  There are of course good things and very bad aspects about it.  A lot of crap is easily circulated, half-truths, outright lies disguised as facts and the easy ruination of a life by a simple picture or video.  Then again, there is a wealth of information and for the most part the world has been brought together.  You can no longer really say you don’t have access to your neighbor across the pond, you do.  With a few keystrokes you’re instantly transported to another country, conversing with locals and learning about cultures that you would otherwise never have experienced without an airplane ticket or heavy musty tomes from the library.  Hell, isn’t that precisely what chat sites do?

Yes, the internet is astounding and clearly I’ve been taking full advantage of it either through blogging or Facebook, I believing in voicing one’s opinions whether or not anyone is listening.  And naturally I believe others have the right to do exactly the same.  That being said, in the situation which I mentioned up above, I think there are certain folks out there who should have their right to voice a belief revoked.  Why?  Because they have what I like to affectionately call ‘shit for brains’.  Their opinions are stupid, narrow-minded, full of ‘isms’ (like racism, sexism…) and based on absolutely crap such as sensational popular belief.  These are the folks that spread hate, ignorance, stupidity, douchbaggery, and worse of all, perpetrate it as reality.  Crazy enough, there are far too many gullible individuals out there who will not only believe, but will embrace their special brand of nonsense.

Maybe you’re wondering what’s going on?  What could have happened?  Maybe you’re even wondering if someone dared to disagree with one of my many random POV’s?  That’s why I’m saying this?  Nah.  It simply isn’t about disagreeing with me, you can do that.  I don’t get pissed off only because someone else thinks different from myself and has spoken up.  Truly Crickets, I’m totally down for a good debate, to listen to opposing views.  This is the best way to learn and if I can’t argue my point without intelligence or evidence, I stay quiet, listen, educate myself and then at a later date I speak. 

Until such a time, I stay quiet.  If there is no resolution or agreement to be had, I am more than willing to agree to disagree.  But there are a few things I will not do, not even if I vehemently disagree with the other person.  I will not use names, I will not belittle them, I will admit when I’m abjectly wrong and the one thing I definitely do not do?  Make sweeping generalizations of any group/organization/belief.  The only exception to this rule?  Terrorists.  The type that hijack a plane and fly it into a building full of innocents, the type who leaves a van full of dynamite outside a government agency and blows it to hell, the type who walks into a building full of children and proceeds to systematically shoot them one at a time without blinking, the type that bombs a city full of innocents…they are what they are, extremists, in every sense.  But even them, I do not reduce to a certain religion or region.  A terrorist can be defined in many ways and they are found in every part of the globe.

So what has me so ticked off so that I need to dedicate a whole blog to them?

A friend of mine posted a comment about the bombing and slow genocide of the Palestinian’s.  By her words she is staunchly opposed to what’s happening and moreover is able to recognize massacre for what it is.  She had facts backing up her status, and I “liked” it.  Then I proceeded to read the comments.  For the most part her friends were supportive, understood the situation for what it was and did not reduce it to a “Jew vs Muslim” conflict.  I was glad for this and yes, relieved.  Until that is…one of her ‘friends’ wrote and I quote, “There will never be peace with any Muslims alive”.

Can you say small nuclear explosion within the cranium?  Have you ever had that happen to you?  It’s uncomfortable.  Rage fills your vision, your heartbeat kicks up ridiculously so and you feel slightly dizzy and sick to the stomach.  The ability to think rationally flies out of your will house as you try to comprehend…just understand how in the world someone could write such…crap.

I sat motionless for many minutes trying hard to wrap my mind around what I was reading.  I even attempted to look at it from some other view but no dice, those words are clear, more or less, death to all Muslims, basically.  You think I’m being a bit dramatic?  Not really.

I had to breathe…a lot.  To calm myself down before responding and this was my response: “Never be peace with any Muslims alive?”  Really?  Who says that in this day and age?  I’m Muslim and damn proud and yet not a terrorist.  Go figure.  And crazy enough I do not support any sort of terrorism…period nor do my friends, family and I haven’t been hearing encouragement of it at my local mosque.  I suggest you take a moment to know a Muslim first, Sir, before making such broad and ludicrous sweeping generalizations of a religion 1.7 billion strong : ) you may be shocked at what you learns.  As for this whole thing?  It’s got nothing to do with Islam vs Judaism.  It’s about land and dominance and greed.  Don’t fool yourself to think otherwise.

I’m not going to talk about Gaza.  I’m far too heart sick to repeat and repeat and repeat and yet nothing.  Not a damn thing is being done to stop this by anyone that matters and can.  Yes, I’m looking at you US Gov.  But I will be patient and keep praying and hope that God intervenes somehow.  It’s time. 

What I will talk about is this ridiculous premise that if a whole religion is wiped clean, there will be peace.  Um, excuse me?  Is that still what popular sentiment seems to believe?  That Islam is full of terrorists and only terrorists therefore as long as they inhabit the earth, there will be no harmony?

Do you see why I may have been/and am ireful?  Would that not create a bit of angst within your being?

Good God people (this is aimed to those who think on the same level as the dude who wrote that comment), do yourselves a favor and pull your head out of your…um…rears.  If you believe that the world would be a better place without us Muslim’s, then you need a reality check or do what I suggest above, grab the nearest Muslim and ask her/him to explain to you what popular belief/sentiment/teaching is within the faith.  Trust me when I say, you will be surprised, pleasantly so, to learn how peace-loving and beautiful is not only the religion, but the people. 

Are you scoffing?  Are you laughing?  Do you think, ‘yeah right’?  Are you thinking to yourself, no other religion has ever had violence associated with it quite like Islam?  Are you maybe even saying, ‘definitely not mine!’  Think again, Sweetheart.  You would be dead wrong.  Still, I encourage that after you talk to the Muslim, how about you jump onto the internet and look up what the Crusades were all about or the Holocaust.  Through the ages there have been wars due to religion along with a breathtaking amount of slaughtering the innocent in the name of the same and subsequently one group or another have been demonized.  You think your religion is free and clear of ever having been labeled as a ‘terrorist organizations’ (although at that time this precise phrase had not been coined) at one point or another?  You would be wrong.

So, you want to wipe out 1.7 billion Muslim’s, eh?  Or maybe you wished that no Muslim’s ever existed, ever?  If that’s so, then let me list a few things that we violent crazed radicals gave to the modern world and if not for us you may have had to go without:

Coffee (stop drinking now!!!  Uh oh, a Muslim Shepard actually came up with it so spit it out!)

Algebra (although I would rather this one be skipped right over because I suckeddddddd at it, I’m sure others can appreciate it.  Still, regardless, how disturbing because a filthy Muslim dared to be brilliant and now it’s ruined!  Someone quickly go inform the PTA!)

Student grants (shocked?  Ah but yes, conceived by and created for the furthering education of qualified students that were learning in madrasa’s and by whom?  Oh, Muslims, check that out!  Look up Ijaza and you’ll see for yourself.  And once you realize I ain’t lying, give back that Pell Grant or student loan ASAP please, because you know, Muslim’s are gross.)

Marching Bands, military style (yeah, even that…weird.  Stop listening now though, plug up your ears because those disgusting violent Muslim’s came up with that too.)

Cameras (yup, and double yup.  Cameras.  Oh no, what will you do?  In a world obsessed with pictures what will you do now?  Go on, return those fancy Nikons and reject any phones that have one of them handy dandy built-in’s.  It’s time to bust out the paper and pencil and start a-sketchin’ because otherwise…you know what I’m gonna say…)

And to add to that already impressive list, the Muslim world also gave of itself these following innovations: Surgery, flying machine, music, toothbrush, the crank (crank-connecting rod system) and last but not least, hospitals.  (I stopped here with my research because it’s late and I’m giving into my naturally lazy impulses.)

Yeah, we are nothing but savages and we need to be wiped clean off the face of this earth, don’t we?  We have added nothing to the advancement of human life as we know it, have we?  We are all, regardless of where we live, what we do, what we say we believe or how we behave, at the end of the day nothing but terrorists and peace can NOT be achieved if we are alive.

I’ll tell you what, I can guarantee you that by even thinking such an atrocious thing about any group of people (due to their religion) doesn’t make that group the terrorist but rather the title should go to the person who is thinking it in the first place. 

Want peace?  Educate yourself, and then educate your neighbor.  Maybe then your neighbor will do the same and so no and so forth.  Before we know it, we will be far more well-informed humans occupying the same planet, possibly even be tolerant of each other.  Ignorance, as I have said before, isn’t always bliss, it is dangerous, as is apathy.  Put them together and you have a volatile mix that will annihilate everything in its path.

To this person, I wish I could meet him and sit him down and tell him about myself, my religion, my beliefs.  I do not know if this will help.  Some are willing to listen and learn while others would rather live within the walls of their own illiteracy.  That is fine, I suppose.  I cannot and will not force anyone to listen to what I have to say.  Even you, my dearest readers, have the option to stop reading me at any point.  But for those who want to know, I’m more than willing to educate and yes, even ask questions in return about your belief, what makes you tick, what makes you feel the way you do.

Anyhow…I’m tired.  My soul continues to be saddened by the madness about the world.  Today it’s Gaza, tomorrow will be…?  I hate to leave that as a fill in the blank kinda option but inevitably something like this will happen again and again we will take to sending emails, organizing rallies and protesting via social media.  But you know what?  I think that’s fantastic.  Even the common every day folk now has a voice, regardless.  Someone in one of the other posts commented that one voice hardly makes a difference.  Tell that to Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, Mahatma Gandhi or any of the myriads of leaders that inescapably proved that one voice can make a HUGE difference.

Stay blessed, my friends.  Hug your children tight, thank God (or whomever you wish to thank) for your safety and comfort, be appreciative for the life you have, and rejoice in the luxury in knowing when one of your loved ones goes out to get a pint of ice cream, that (InshAllah) they will return and not end up lying in a pool of blood somewhere due to a bomb having been dropped right on top of them and that most importantly, safe in the knowledge that you are not stopping peace from reigning upon the earth simply because of your chosen religion.  I can’t say that for myself since…well I’m a Muslim and it’s my entire fault.

Happy Ramadan-ing.

From a very sad, disheartened blogger.

Ramadan 2014 Day 24, Tuesday, July 22

Oh, oh.  Did you guys know that some sort of nasty bug is going around?  Yup, so far two people I know have come down with what I guess one could call a “summer flu”.  Take care of yourselves and if you see someone who seems to be sick, sequester them immediately.

Yesterday was music class.  Have I mentioned before that I sing?  Have I mentioned my family lineage in connection to music?  I know I have.  So I’ll not waste characters on the page to reiterate.  It’s going onto 5 years almost too since I took my first North Indian classical vocal class.  One would think by now I would be somewhat good at it but I’ll tell you here and now…not at all. 

That’s not to say I’m bad.  I can hold a tune, I’m not tone deaf and dogs do not start to howl in the distance when I bust out into song (although I have had smart butt friends who have imitated dogs, jackasses).  That’s okay, I’m confident enough in knowing that ears do not bleed upon listening to my caterwauling.  If that happened, it is possible my father would disown me.  He’s a musician, you see, and not just any normal one at that.  He’s an ‘Ustad’ of music which basically means the same as Guru and I believe most of you have heard that terminology before.  My grandfather (Ustad Kader Baksh) was also well known and quite revered in India.  I can sort of imagine his spirit coming to haunt me while demanding to know how it is that I have his blood line and not be able to carry a note, had I sucked.  But I digress (oh shocker)…

I went to class feeling nervous, as usual.  There is such a thing as being dedicated to one’s art.  I admire hugely those who are.  I am not one of those astounding human beings.  I am…lazy.  I’ve always been.  I equate any success in past artistic endeavors as either simple dumb luck or genes, both in equal parts to be honest, lately though probably more of the genetic stuff than anything else. 

Let me sort of describe how one of our (my cousin N takes lessons with me and at the same hour hence we are sort of a duo, or at least morphed into one) classes go so you can get an idea of my ‘dedication’:

We (N and I) call each other on our way to class complaining about how we didn’t practice and that we will get annihilated or in the least Dad will drop us as students and finally wash his hands of our untalented asses.  We would not blame him in the least.

We hang up the phone hurriedly so that we can spend the rest of the drive listening to the audio recording from the prior week, manically trying to recall what the heck was learned.  Keep in mind no two recordings are ever alike because my father is alllllll about improvisation.  Yes, he gives you one piece and by the next week, surprise, surprise, it’s changed.  When you ask him about it, he says, “You should be flexible”.  Ah, said with such ease, almost flippantly while I’m thinking, “Um, no, because I suck hence litheness is not probable”.  I do not tell him this, he may throw a hammer at me although he won’t because he’s not violent like that but the look he gives over his eyeglasses is about the same.

We get to class at one of his other students home, a couple who have been kind enough to open their gorgeous palace of a place to us silly giggling girls.  If we’re practicing for some upcoming program dad will go straight to that piece otherwise we’ll practice the latest Raag (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raga) that he’s decided to torture us with.  Keep in mind it may have been weeks, even months, since we’ve been learning the same thing hence by then some of it should come naturally.  This is not the case.  With the first note, each of us required to sing independently of the other, its complete and utter silence.  If we manage to get a note out, or a few notes strung together, it’s like another surprise package of amazement.  It’s akin to climbing K2.  Such fails otherwise.

And so he will sing the note and we will repeat, on and on it goes, N and me taking turns, ending the class feeling giddy because he didn’t actually drop kick us to the curb, which we fully expect nearly every blasted week.  He takes his moment to look at us over those glasses perched at the end of his nose, wag a finger at us, and say, “Girls, you need to practice…every day…for at least an hour or more.  You cannot learn like this!”  And every week there is a renewed sense of energy.  We fall all over ourselves promising and swearing that by the next class we will blow his mind.  To date, we have not been able to do anything of the sort.

I’ve already mentioned that I’m lazy, hence whereas I could probably be much further along than I am, I am not, and also that genetics has played a huge role in helping me out, the other reason why our classes is such a clusterF is because I take it with my bestie.  N and I are cousins, on my dad’s side, but we are total partners in crime and when you put two people who are as close as us together for an hour…well insanity does tend to abound. 

Not long ago, the Aunty who owns the house we practice in was sitting and listening to us preparing for an upcoming program.  Something happened, some note was sung way wrong which prompts N and I to burst out into laughter.  My father has often joined (heck he’s the catalyst at times too) the joviality but he tries to rein us in.  This doesn’t always work, I do admit.  Regardless, during that particular evening, by the time we left we were so not prepared for the following week’s performance.  Both N and I had looks that closely resembled panicked hunted animals in our eyes.  Aunty simply shook her head at us giving one of those, ‘you girls are totally hopeless’ looks.  She even muttered, “I don’t know how you will be ready”.  That made 4 of us.

Fast forward to a minute after our rather successful song and aunty approaches us once more shaking her head but smiling.  She says (and an appropriate amount of awe in her voice) something to the effect of, “it’s amazing, I always think you two are never ready and what will you sing once you get up onto the stage but somehow you manage to pull it off.  How do you do it?  Do you go home and practice like crazy?”

Oh but only if she knew.  I looked at her deadpan and responded with one word, “genetics”.  Enough said.

Look, I know that lots of my dad’s students struggle learning, I mean really struggle.  Trying to master any craft is not easy and it shouldn’t be otherwise everyone would be walking around with the same set of skills and how flippin’ boring would that be?  But they don’t take their musical education for granted or their artistic struggle.  They for the most part put in effort and time (not that I’m saying all of them do) and what comes out at the other end is an advancement of the skill from scratch.  This behavior is admirable, truly.  Dedication is astounding to me.  And maybe the reason I look at it that way is because I also believe its bunk that just because I’m genetically inclined, I can get away with not practicing and still come out sounding as if I had.  Do I take advantage of this fact?  HECK YES!  (I don’t actually believe I have a point in this whole paragraph, if you find one, send it my way.)

In case you were wondering, this isn't me. 
I'm not this graceful nor awesome nor
pretty.
I stole this straight off the net and
I own no rights to this pic.  *shrugs*
 

And this natural inclination towards music has been around since childhood.  No matter what I picked up and tried to do, I did it well with very little practicing involved.  I learned Kathak for 9 years and was good.  Yes, I admit that freely.  I was damn good and was even asked to perform a lot.  And I loved, loved, loved that medium of dance.  I adored all parts of it and rarely came down with a bought of stage freight (now I quiver in my skivvies each time I so much as contemplate a performance).  Kathak and I were best friends but did I ever strap on the bells to my feet and cause utter chaos in the basement of the house while practicing?  I can actually recall twice and those two occasions were prompted by my mother who threatened to tell my teacher I never ever practiced.  I think I may have sat on the floor with the bells in front of me striking them repeatedly while reading a book.  Okay so maybe I actually never practiced.

Then there was the western flute.  Oh boy, if I could remember one occasion in which I sat in my room practicing, I’d probably fall over in a dead faint.  IT NEVER HAPPENED.  And yet with each practice/rehearsal/class I simply got better than the time before until I was selected as 2^nd flute 2^nd chair for the Junior Baltimore Symphony Orchestra.  What the hell??  How can you explain that phenomenon if not for genetics?

Yea, I so need to shape up, really and truly.  It’s not that I want to be some amazing classical super star traveling the world, performing in front of live audiences and recording.  My innate lazy nature wouldn’t stand for that anyhow.  Really I have no such aspirations.  I just want to make my dad proud.  There are glimmers of moments when I hit the right note and his eyes close and his brows scrunch and he emits a soft sound of appreciation and to me that’s analogous to receiving a Grammy.  And for that alone if I have to step it up, actually bust out the harmonium to practice, then I will.

That was my lesson BTW, that I need to learn true dedication and not take for granted or use as a crutch, the genes that were passed down to me. 

Oh, you also may be wondering: she sings and observes fast?  Isn’t that sort of contradictory?  Some in the religion would agree, some would disagree, obviously knowing that I take class and did not give it up during this month is a clear indication in which camp I fall.  If you think I’m a hypocrite, that’s fine.  I will do what I need to do, I ain’t asking for you to support me.

Ramadan is nearing an end.  The next few days will be interesting.  Thursday is the Night of Power (Laila-tul-Qadr) which will lead to a very busy weekend of preparing for the holiday and spending tons of time with family and having fun.  I don’t know what will happen with the blog.  I promise I will try my best to update but honestly y’all can’t complain that I haven’t been doing a pretty good job of late, that too for a person who has historically pulled a disappearing act for months at a time.  Be prepared for shorter entries post Thursday.  Just consider this a friendly warning.

With those excuses firmly in place…Happy Ramadan-ing!!!!

Ramadan 2014 Day 23, Monday, July 21

So yesterday I mentioned how I had an opportunity to reconnect with an old friend.  To be honest, I try to do this as much as possible which may be why this blog will sound redundant.  I’m all about circling back.  I love to see where people end up and learn their stories.  There are a lot of lessons to be taken away in a one hour conversation with anyone, if you ask me.

This particular friend I haven’t come face-to-face with in about 15 years.  From the day we were introduced, I genuinely liked her, simply got a good vibe.  I thought her to be sweet and funny, kind and she possessed a set of pipes (her singing voice, pervs) on her that was magical.  We ended up going our separate ways eventually, allowing life to carry us in different directions.  She headed off to medical school and I settled down into humdrum domestic bliss.  As of about two years ago we ‘friended’ each other on FB and then a month ago I decided it was high time to start chatting in earnest, reacquainting ourselves.  She seemed more than happy to oblige and we’ve been talking ever since.  And in the process, lots were indeed learned.

First and foremost, it’s interesting how the views of our friends are so utterly different from how we view ourselves.  (I’ve spoken of this before, but every few months there’s this burning need to repeat.)  She confided to me that back then to her I seemed confident and pretty and yada, yada, yada.  I thought she was the same and uber smart to boot.  I knew she would go places and I admired her for that.  I didn’t think I was going to get anywhere in life to be honest so the fact that I have, is shocking even to myself.  But her?  I knew she would achieve her dreams; she had that quiet determination that I find awe-inspiring.

Time though, does some funny things to us.  It takes those wide eyed hopeful kids and turns them into cautious, negative adults.  The dreams that we once held dear end up possibly becoming reality, but not exactly what we had hoped it would be.  Our fantasies give away to realities and that, my dears, is the harshest fact of all.  Reality….bites, doesn’t it?

And by talking to her, I realize that her struggles aren’t all that dissimilar to neither mine nor the scads of other women I know.  Actually, I’m pragmatic and reasonable enough to recognize that we all suffer the same issues to some degree, whether we want to admit to it or not however this friend for some reason couldn’t.  Really, I think up till last night when we had a fantastic heart-to-heart, this amazing woman thought she was unique in her mindset.  This so broke my heart.  It’s one thing to know that others share your pain; it’s another thing to suffer in silence. 

Additionally, thanks to this conversation, a blog was born.  I took a bit of time to soul search and here’s what I’ve been able to determine about myself (I hope she reads this and can also take away some positive things and recognize the common struggles within): 

1.)    I’m one blessed human being for having such an amazing support system about me.  My family of course is often the strongest factions however my friends?  I look at it sort of like this, they don’t have to be there, they choose/chose to be which makes them my greatest non-paid cheerleaders.  Without those people to turn towards, I’d be a blubbering nervous insecure mess.  But on the flip side, your family and friends can also diminish you however it’s up to you to allow that to happen.  Just don’t. 

2.)    I do not allow others to determine my own worth/self-image.  I used to do this at the drop of a hat.  Any fool cold come by and mindlessly say something and voila, I’d crumble.  Seriously, I’d die inside.  For weeks I would literally let that one comment to decree my mood.  And then one day, I stopped.  I woke up within myself and realized that I was harming no one in the world but myself.  So the next time someone said something that brought them pleasure in putting me down (keeping in mind that I’m able to differentiate between jokes and insults), I just turned around, looked at the person and said “stop”.  Guess what?  They did.  It’s a battle I fight every single day, to this day.

3.)    I’ve stopped caring about what others think about me.  I’m a good person (no, I’m actually not being narcissistic about this).  Not a great one, mind you, just a good one and that’s all I’m aiming to be until the day I draw my last breath.  I want people generally to walk away from me and think, ‘well she’s nice’.  That’s my aim in life.  Isn’t all that hard, right?  It’s taken me a long time to get to the point where this is all I actually want, FYI.  But before I craved to impress the crap out of everyone I met.  I worked to so hard to be what they wanted (or thought) that I lost myself in the mix, most certainly ignored over and over again what it was that I wanted.  Frankly, living for others, suck.  I’m done with that.  If you don’t like me for the person I am?  You don’t have to like me at all. (This is one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned).  If you don’t like that I’m a short rotund opinionated smartass, then okay, there’s the door, use it.  Believe me, if you don’t like me, someone else in this great big ginormous world of ours, does.

4.)    I will not follow the beat to anyone else’s drum.  It’s actually quite natural to do so.  We humans are sheep, lemmings, we will actually jump off that bridge everyone else does simply to feel included.  We are idiots of the greatest degree and we have brains, although we don’t always use them.  We often cannot make decisions for ourselves without consulting friends/family/random internet research.  I have been guilty of this as well, and yes, still am.  But it’s not as bad as before.  Now I just listen to my inner voice and trust it.

5.)    And speaking of trust, I trust me.  Does anyone know how hard this is?  Simply to trust one’s inner self is about the most difficult thing to do.  A few out there are confident (sometimes arrogant, some downright douchebaggy) enough to be able to allow them own selves to steer their boat of life without a compass.  Oh boy and do I admire those individuals.  Me?  I didn’t know how to do that.  I’ve grown up in a culture (not religion, let me clarify) which crippled me in this aspect.  For most of my childhood and well into adult life, I’ve trusted nothing that I believed in, wanted to do, or said.  It was nothing but double guessing my inner voice/reasoning until indecision gripped me.  No more.  I’ve been a hypocrite long enough.  If I can give solid advice to friends about their lives, why can’t I take my own?  So now this is me, taking my own.

6.)    I’m big.  I own it.  This is something I’ve addressed on so many occasions, I can’t possibly count.  But I am.  Did you flinch?  Well, I’m sorry if my admission makes you uncomfortable.  I’m not.  Haha, that doesn’t mean I was always so blasé about my size.  God knows, I hated myself (sometimes that hate comes back to say hello every once in a while) for far too many years to count.  I was consumed with self-loathing and disgust.  I used to look at magazines, television, random women walking by, friends and family members and think, “why can’t I be like her?” and naturally I would assume that every man out there wanted “that” sort of woman, anything less was simply…repulsive.  What I didn’t want to acknowledge was that if our DNA’s are different, then of course our likes and dislikes would be.  And when this realization seeped in, that’s when I owned my weight.  And I still do.  When I want to lose all this, I will.  Until then, keep your damn opinion to yourself regarding it, thanks! 

7.)    I’ve lifted my chin up to the world.  Don’t understand this?  For a few of you who is reading, you are even now nodding solemnly thinking, “oh yes”.  What is it though, the rest may be wondering.  It’s when one walks around looking at the ground, embarrassed by the very person who they have turned into…whatever that is but what it’s not?  What we ‘imagined’ we would be.  Regardless, we walk around with our noses in a book, or eyes glued to a cell phone, avoiding eye contact with anyone in fear that someone may be looking back.  We are the wall flowers of the world, no matter how much our natural inclinations would lead us to be different, we shrink away from attention.  Oh the years where I did this.  I think back to them and feel a sense of loss for the opportunity to fully ‘live’ life because I simply wasn’t willing.  Now, no mas.  I’m not going to gasp my last breath thinking, “if only…”  To hell with that.

Okay but seriously, can I not write shorter blogs?  *sigh*

My friend out there, I hope you read this.  I hope you can grasp how difficult all these things are and this none of the above just came to me in one second and I altered myself as swiftly.  Every day of existence has been a struggle so your path isn’t easy but here’s the trick, no one will heal you, but yourself. 

Be strong.

Okay, music class soon!  Gotta go and start manically practicing for the next hour so that my dad doesn’t knock my block off.

As usual, Happy Ramadan’ing.

Ramadan 2014 Day 20, 21 and 22, July 18 thru July 20th

And another weekend has come and gone.  One more to go before the end of Ramadan, shocking!  And what’s more shocking then that?  That I was actually able to keep up this blog through it all.  I’m going to take a moment to compliment myself here and say ‘yay me’.  Okay, done.

Well, Friends, this weekend has been good and bad.  I’ve been able to reconnect with two people (something long overdue), I’ve been sick and the dizzy spells have yet to abate (yes, I’ll go to a doctor soon, promise promise) and I’ve been able to complete (for the most part) Eid shopping.  And above all that, I’ve been reading nonstop regarding the conflict happening over there in Gaza.

I think the most horrific aspect of this shitshow is the fact that little kids are the primary casualties.  The pictures now surfacing from the genocide is that of broken bodies of children, and as recently as yesterday, the charred remains of kids.  My head spins every single time I see a new imagine and the fact that no one, not one single government entity, has really condemned these actions makes me ill.  The other day I got into a pretty heated debate with P who said, why did Hamas have to start lobbing missiles over the fence in the first place?  Not an invalid question.  But then why are terrorists, terrorists?  Why do dumbass people do what dumbass people do?  This comes back to the old saying, “if a dog bites you, would you bite it?” no you’d whack it with a newspaper or worst case scenario put it the hell down, not blast the whole goddamn kennel into kingdom come.

P he went on to point out that since the citizens of Gaza elected Hamas into office, weren’t they ultimately to blame then?  (Side note: Now don’t misunderstand P, he likes to play devil’s advocate, and that’s precisely what he was doing here.  He’s actually quite fair and balanced (unlike FauxNews) so don’t go being outraged.  He asks the questions that most wouldn’t ask and is rather too PC to throw out there.  For this I appreciate him, although at times I want to straight up haul off and punch him.)

But back to the question at hand…Let me get political for a minute here.  This was my response:  Yes, so when we elected little Bush into office and he ended up thumbing his nose at the whole wide world including the UN and sending troops into Iraq thus turning the wheels of our financial and economic decline not to mention sending our boys and girls in blue over there to fight a war that wasn’t even valid, I guess we’re all to blame because 51% of the citizens of this country elected him, right?

He could say nothing.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: this isn’t religious war.  If someone tells me that, I’d laugh in their face.  This is a pissing contest that has no end in sight, a grudge match for greedy leaders (oh both sides) and the civilians are truly the sufferers.  Yet, Folks, let’s call a spade a spade.  This situation is so lopsided that it’s shocking.  One side has suffered so many casualties that its mindboggling while the other?  Well…I’m not trying to say that there should be anyone suffering period or dying for that matter but COME ON!

Let’s just reduce this to the most one-dimensional view point?  In essence this is basically a gang, a bunch of thugs (who can’t shut up to save their lives and goes around puffing out their blasted chests and throwing out stupid threats of destruction and damnation…Hi Hamas, I’m talking to you), who is going up against a well-stocked sophisticated military force (hellooooooo Israel, this one is for you), literally.  One has missiles that are being punted into the desert while the other has erudite weapons of destruction.  Don’t think this is a bit…cock-eyed?

P also asked me, well if someone is attacking your house, will you simply sit by and let it happen?  Another totally valid question and one I did not have to pause to answer.  I responded, no, I would defend myself against my attackers, not his neighbor’s child’s uncle’s postman and then everyone else who is within the vicinity.  So yea, there’s the answer to that question. 

But here’s an observation, which begs the question, why these crazy air raids and now ground invasion at all when there can be alternative methods.  We all are fully aware that the USA is nestled cozily in bed with Israel and to the extent that we can do nothing but say ‘well they have the right to defend themselves’ over all these atrocities and in defense or our allies.  So in such a copacetic relationship, there are definite advantages other than sharing ones favorite macaroni and cheese recipe.  I think it’s a fair assumption that in regards to security, the bigwigs probably whisper back and forth about technology and the like.  You’re telling me that the USA, the superpower that it is, cannot assist Israel to flush out specific locations of the offenders and go after them?  We’ve done it before, and many, many times and we haven’t had to resort to boots on the ground either.  You’re telling me that instead of sharing intelligence and tactics (giving suggestions basically), the better course of action is to go bombing everyone and their grandmothers because ‘they have the right to defend ourselves’?  WHAT???? 

Pardon me for saying this but:  WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE??????

When was it ever okay to do this?  When did this become the accepted norm?  What the fudgenuts is happening to this world that our politicians and government isn’t sitting back and saying, ‘oh wow this is f’ed up’??  My God in heaven.  You do not have to have a political nor religious affiliation in order to say that this just is not right and barbaric to the enth degree. 

Furthermore, I was perplexed when I found out that the residents of Gaza have 3 minutes before shelling begins.  Did you know that?  3 minutes.  That’s how long the Israeli army gives them.  To take your whole life and reduce it down to 3 minutes.  Think about this.  Just stop and take a second.  REALLY mull this over.  Um…so let me ask you, if you have 3 minutes before a bomb is dropped on your home, what would you do?  What would you grab?  What would you take with you?  Look at where you’re sitting and try to figure that out.  Can you take your existence and boil it down to whatever you can grab and then get far enough away so that you’re not blow to nothing more than unrecognizable pieces of limbs and flesh?  Because 3 minutes doesn’t take into account the lead-up to the bombing, it is 3 minutes total.  So do you look at your watch, run around like a maniac picking up what you can for 1.5 minutes and then run for your life for 1.5 minutes? 

These kinds of questions keep me awake at night.  I look around my own home, think of all the things that I cherish: a sari that was given to me when my grandmother passed, the scads of albums representing a cherished childhood and past, important documentation that I probably couldn’t move forward without, this trinket I picked up here, that letter that was given to me on my birthday by my poet uncle who is now gone, that dress that was given to me there…what would I grab?  Can a person’s life be reduced to a couple of minutes and if you think ‘sure’ then you are far more understanding then I.  To me, it’s not fathomable. 

Then there’s dealing with the aftermath.  Returning ‘home’ only to find it now rubble in which one needs to weed through finding bits and pieces of your life.  For those who can’t see the big deal because either you never gave it any thought or this just doesn’t affect you, again I ask you to look around yourself.  If you’re not home presently when you do get back, then stop and glance about and try to imagine your sanctuary reduced to nothing but debris.  Charred and unrecognizable, undistinguishable from what you once considered home.  Do you flinch?  Do you turn your mind to more pleasant things because you frankly can’t comprehend this?  But that’s what those Palestinian’s are doing, isn’t it?

But it doesn’t end there, because after all home is where the heart is, correct?  So what happens when your very soul is ripped from your chest?  When your baby, your 2, 3, 4, etc…year old child has been killed?  How do you bury that child?  How do you wrap that little body that you’ve cared and loved for in white cloth and cover it with dirt?  HOW?  And who do you blame for this?  Do you blame: yourself because you elected a terrorist organization into power?  (But then I could argue that we, the citizens of the USA did the same thing as well although maybe that’s not how we look at it but hey, ask the Iraqi’s.)  Or do you blame your neighbor who may be the one who is in fact launching those missiles?  Or do you blame that child for even having the nerves of playing outside, going to school, riding his/her bike?

Who do we blame for this?  And how, in the name of all that’s holy, do we not speak up?  I don’t want to sound redundant, to speak the words I spoke just a few days ago yet I feel as if I need to reiterate, I don’t care if you’re a Jew or a Muslim.  I don’t give a damn which political party you’re associated with or which landmass you occupy, none of these things matter an ounce to me.  You want to tell me that in 19blahblahblah this happened and then in 2009 blahblahblah happened then go ahead, I’m not listening.  All I can see anymore is the bodies of bleeding dead children littered all over media, unfortunately not the mainstream one either.  Shame on you CNN, BBC and every other organization out there.  Shame on every single reporter on television who downplays how bad this all is and most of all shame on each and every government which sits by repeating like parrots, ‘they have the right to defend themselves’. 

While I agree that anyone has the right to defend their lives, I do not agree with genocide, PERIOD, regardless of the geographic location or people.  I think about my little nephews and nieces strewn around the globe and horrifically enough I see their faces in the children that are lifeless on the streets of Gaza.  I can’t help it.  In every single picture that I have looked upon thus far, I’ve seen the images of my friends kids, the neighbors cherubs, the one that toddles by on the street…these are the faces which I see in those dead lifeless eyes and a rage sweeps through me.  How can this be happening?  Children are children damnit, wake up!

Close your eyes and ignore it if you wish, take sides if you like, I cannot and one day my God will ask me, why didn’t you speak up?  Why didn’t you demand some sort of relief?  Why didn’t you cry out against your fellow human beings suffering?  At least I can say I did something, even if it’s in the form of a stupid blog.  I spoke up and said something.  But can you?

You want to make it about politics or religion?  Well, Buttercup, you do you.  Go ahead.  If you think that the 3 year old who was blown to smithereens outside while simply deserved what he or she got, then I don’t know what to say to you.  You’ll have to answer to whatever it is that you answer to, if you do at all.  I, on the other hand, cannot sleep at night.

This blog wasn’t supposed to be another rant.  It was supposed to be a simple telling of what’s happened in the last 3 days in my life.  Well you know what?  I’ve done a lot of normal everyday things that most of you have done, I imagine.  I’ve spent time with friends/family, I’ve gone out shopping, I’ve lazed around at house watching TV, I’ve enjoyed this weather, I’ve talked on the phone, I’ve texted with buddies, I’ve listened to the rain, I’ve contemplated what I will eat for dinner but I have also breathed in air that isn’t flavored with the smells of mortar shells, I haven’t cringed in fear for my life, I haven’t stepped over corpses of neighbors and loved ones, nor have I had to grab my shit in 3 minutes and run for it.  Lucky me.

So yea, my weekend was terrific, how was yours?

I’m going to say this although it doesn’t seem to be sticking with the theme of the blog above, still it is Ramadan…so…Happy Ramadan-ing (and God save us from ourselves…please).

(Another side note:  I’m posting a picture here that pains me.  I have been a staunch supporter of my president but of late he has managed to disappoint me over and over again.  I saw this and thought, ‘hmmm…yea’ and am sharing.  Believe me, this is the greatest disillusionment I’ve faced, that the president I loved, has so gone astray that I can no longer defend his actions or words.  I can only hope that he will renew my belief in him by saying/doing the right thing, to raise his voice and condemn these violent attacks and the genocide.  I pray that God will guide him so that I once more feel like I did the right thing when I cast my ballot for him.  I love my country but I can't say that I always love my president nor those that run the government.  Such a shame.  If you think this is anti-American propaganda, then you're a moron...sorry to be so blunt.  I am an American and damn proud to be one and as I've said before, if I can love my country, I can criticize it as well.)

 

Ramadan 2014 Day 19, Thursday, July 17

OMG, 19 days and counting?  Woah.  Where is the time going to?

I woke up the other day and saw some grey hair, oh how time is flying.  Okay, well actually I’ve always had grey hair, since the age of 17 or so that probably doesn’t matter. 

But regardless I’m shocked that with all the anticipation of Ramadan, now we’re squarely approaching the last 10 days, considered to be the holiest within the month itself.  The Quran says that it is better than 1000 months (not day’s folks, months).  Here’s a passage so you can read for yourself that I’m not just saying “stuff”:

There has come to you Ramadan, a blessed month which Allah has enjoined you to fast, during which the gates of heaven are opened and the gates of Hell are closed, and the rebellious devils are chained up. In it there is a night which is better than a thousand months, and whoever is deprived of its goodness is indeed deprived.” Narrated by al-Nasa’i, 2106; Ahmad, 8769. classed as saheeh by al-Albani in Saheeh al-Targheeb, 999.

So what’s this mean?  You spend a lot of time, as much as you can, praying and asking from Allah (swt).  And when I say ask, I do mean that.  You ask for anything/everything you can.  You got a free pass which means you should utilize it well.  And why 10 days?  It is said that the Quran was brought down sometime during these nights although we don’t know when precisely.  It’s recommended that instead of trying to take an ‘educated’ (and how can it really be anyway when there’s no record of precisely when?) guess, you cover your basis and hit every night. 

A few men will separate from their families, head off to the mosque and literally sequester themselves from the world (including work) to pray, do ibadah and ask for forgiveness.  This sort of deep devotion amazes me as well as generates a sense of awe.  I’ve seen these guys, living almost like vagrants, within the confines of the masjid.  They are fed by the generosity of their fellow man and all the amenities are provided so that they can focus on their spirituality.  I try to think about it and it makes me go slightly woozy in the head.  I’ve spoken to one friend who did this and he told me that it’s the most uber religious experience you will ever go through short of going for the Hajj.

The whole ‘forgive sin’ thing is actually quite ginormous.  Allah (swt) is super forgiving, to put it in modern day terms.  There are so many ways in which to show your regret for past misdeeds but the easiest?  Well…if you ask, it shall happen.  Wonder what I mean?  Dude seriously, it’s quite easy.  If you ask Allah (swt) for forgiveness, particularly during these 10 nights and more importantly during the Night of Power (which I will write about in more detail later so chillax but in essence the night we ‘assume’ may be that which the Quran was gifted to mankind), you will be granted forgiveness for your sins but the trick is?  Ask.  It’s so simple.  Supplicate yourself before the Almighty and just say “forgive me”. 

Now a day, opening a bottle of soda or juice is more complicated than that.  Sheesh.  You think I'm exaggerating?  Well I bought this coconut juice the other day (see pic here --->) excited because it was 'all natural' but I had no flippin' clue how to get the darn thing open.  I sat there for God only knows how long puzzling over it, turning it around, poking and pulling, trying to find directions.  Go figure, a drink that needs instructions on how to access it?!  The packaging, although j'adorbs, was quickly disliked for it caused complications in my life.  It took me and another friend far too long to figure it out.  Shameful to say the least.  Oh, and it doesn't taste good, AT ALL.  It's expensive to boot so spare yourself the duckets and just go get yourself a coconut, whack into it (without slicing off your fingers) and enjoy.  This stuff actually is downright gross and I feel sad for the amount of money I wasted on it and...wow, I SO digress!  BACK TO MY POINT!!!!!!! 

Let me ask you all a favor though, and it’s a biggie, particularly to my non-Muslim brothers and sisters:  These last few days, be kind and understanding to your Muslim counterparts.  Know that they are trying to achieve a far higher level of oneness with God than you can imagine be considerate to them.  If you see them struggle, encourage them, you don’t have to follow the religion to do it.  If you can also desist from tempting them (we all do it, it’s okay, nothing to be ashamed of) with other things (and you darn well know what those are), just…back off a bit till after the month is over (I realize I can say forever but that’s going a bit too far, and we are nothing if not human)?  Basically, don’t set them up for a fail because they had to go through 20 days of fasting and praying to get to these last 10 nights.  That ain’t no easy feat.  So if you want to gossip?  Go to someone else and unload.  If you want to backbite?  Hey I’m sure that other person would be thrilled to indulge.  If you feel the overwhelming urge to speak of, read or watch salacious materials and in turn want to share, then um…just sort of say to yourself, “later” (hopefully later will actually never come and you will forget and won’t therefore undo all the good that your friend is doing for him or herself in the first place…just sayin’).

Oh, everything I said in the paragraph above of course applies doubly to other Muslims.  Just because you may have reasons for not fasting or just do not observe it nor believe that it’s legitimate, keep your negativity to yourself.  Help along your brethren.  I’m sure there’s reward in that alone.

Yea, so here we go basically, last 10 day stretch and the hardest.  Don’t worry; I’ll still be blogging and keeping you apprised of the situation.  Let’s see how things proceed for me on a personal level.  I’ve already told you that I am not the best sort of Muslim in the world, not even slightly that good but I try my hardest and have the cleanest of intentions.  Hopefully I get credit for this?

This year, I have a lot to ask Allah (swt) for, including scads of forgiveness.  My insomnia will come in handy.  Wish me luck!

Ciao for now! : )  See y’all on Monday, unless I get unlazy or unbusy (yea right) and decide to bang out another post between now and then.  Highly unlikely so don’t get your hopes up. 

As I’ve said before Happy Ramadan-ing!!!