Apathetic to the Whole "Birthday" Thing...Meh

My birthday is quickly whizzing it's way towards me and this year I want to do precisely what I wanted to do last year...nothing.

 

It's not that I don't love celebrating them, just  not mine.  I don't know when the joy of it disappeared, probably around the time I realized that my biological clock was an epic fail and that growing older only meant more failure.  I'd rather it be just any other day.  I'm not saying this to be shy and humble, I honestly mean it.  I do not like my birthday nor do I need any attention but my family are those folks who aren't about to listen to me and will celebrate it anyhow, never mind how I may feel about it.  Of course I love them to pieces for loving me this much and trying to make it special but the internal demons of mine just sort of sit back and make me uncomfortable.

 

Anyhow moving on.

 

I'll share a few happy memories though of myself when I was a kid in regards to my birthday, maybe that will cheer this otherwise pretty depressing blog up.

 

Yes, as a child I loved the coming of my birthday, particularly because it was accompanied with the birth of Jesus (I realize this isn't the time of year that Jesus was actually born but hey, who am I to argue?).  The lights, the good cheer, the whimsy also played into it. 

 

Now even as a kid I was pretty non-demanding.  I didn't aspire to lofty heights of gift receiving.  I knew my dad worked hard and was generous to begin with so why ask for  more?  Every birthday of course my parents would ask me what I wanted and I would spend quite a bit of time in answering, mulling over options carefully, checking out prices, making sure the economy of it was reasonable.  I had no interest in busting the bank account.

 

My brother, on the other hand, had no such qualms.  He was (and still is) a big techie who was into all the electronics that one can imagine a boy of his age to be.  And he did not demure when asked what he wanted for his special day.  The gifts ran the gamut from:

 

This is a Walkman.  You shoved a tape into it and jammed out.  This is the great great great greatttttttttt grandpa of the iPod, just in case you were wondering.

 

Another oldie but goodie (sorta like myself).  The Atari gaming console.  This was also the great grandparent to the Xbox except it wasn't wireless so  you had to sit within 5 feet from the TV and practically go blind.

 
 

Hello Computer.  This was some cutting edge shiz here.



 



And then on his 18th birthday he asked for this:

 

Labron convertible, which he wrecked within 1 week of getting it home because he was showing off with his buddy John in the car and that too down our neighborhood street, practically right in front of my aunts home.

 

Right out of the showroom too.  After all it was an important milestone which deserved an important gift.  Incidentally, Dad was more than willing to give me a car for my 18th as well but I said no.  I didn't feel as if I was 'responsible' enough and therefore continued to drive the hand-me-down Mazda 626 (which was a badass ride anyhow).  I wanted to wait for my 21st which is precisely what I did.  I sure was a stupid kid.  *smh*

 

I was indeed very conscientious.  One year after saving up my Eid money, I bought this:

 

Oh how many random nights I slept in this thing in the living room.  And even, on occasion, in bed.

 

That's right, a Care Bear sleeping bag.  Now that I think about it, it may have been Strawberry Shortcake because I was big into that, or maybe even Little Orphan Annie...anywho...I was so excited about it too and a bit proud of myself because I was able to buy it without the assistance of my parents.  My brother thought I was dumb as hell because had I asked the parentals, they would have ponied up with nary a word.  But no, I was going to do it, just me.  I even remember the Toys'r'Us I purchased it from, which was in College Park near the Indian stores...ok I'm rambling.

 

One year, I think I was turning 10, my mother asked me what I wanted for my upcoming big day.  Again I spiraled into the normal thought process which takes at least a week, scouring toy magazines that are abundant during the holidays.  I watched the commercials on TV avidly, as if my life depended upon it and then the big light bulb moment...I wanted Operation, the game, not to be confused with an operation. 

 

 

Dad took me to the store and bought it for me; I was practically giddy with excitement as I held the  plastic covered board game close to my heart.  Before this, I hadn't told anyone what I wanted, thinking that what I would come home with would impress the lot of them.  I remember proudly showing it off to my mother who stared at it, looked back at me, and said, Are you sure you don't want anything else with this?  I shook my head, eyes full of love as I looked down upon the still unwrapped box and a bit perplexed.  Why would anyone want anything other than this?!?! I wondered dreamy-eyed (this is how I look at a piece of chocolate mousse cake now).  She persisted though, We can get you something else, if you want.  This is just 10 dollars.  I would not budge.  I didn't want anything else.  I had what I wanted and that made me happy.  She glared at my dad, almost accusingly and he held out his hands in defense as if to say, Don't look at me, that's what she asked for.

 
I played that game to death.  I shared it with all my friends and some who I didn't even like.  I squealed with joy when I could get one of the pieces out without the red buzzer nose going off and I took care of it, never having lost any of it.  I'm not sure when it was thrown out, it may still be somewhere in the recesses of our home but I highly doubt it.  However, whenever I'm in the toy store, usually with one of my nieces or nephews, if I see the game, I can't help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  It still is a good part of my memories, even if it cost 10 bucks.
 

I didn't care then that it was 10 dollars or that I let a perfectly great opportunity for maximum buying power slip through my fingers.  I'm pretty much still like this.  I love the gifts that I receive, still get joy in unwrapping them in front of the person because what's the point of doing it alone but the thing is, I don't give a rats-behind what's actually in the box, whether it's worth $1 or $1000.  Here's the way I look at things:  If I really want something, I'll get it, or save up to get it.  If it's a steep ticketed item, then I guess I'll be saving up for a lot longer.  I do not expect anyone to give me anything for free and I am humble enough in understanding that when someone buys me something, they may be pinching some serious duckets in order to do so.  The effort means way more to me than the item itself, although I also cherish the gift. 

 

Additionally, do not believe in re-gifting.  Not that I'm particularly selfish, but again it goes back to the effort someone has put into getting me something/anything.  I will at least wear/utilize it once and most likely in front of that person so that they know it has been appreciated.  People who seem 'disappointed' in a gift received confuse the hell out of me.  These people obviously have expectations and that is seriously messed up, or so I think.

 

This was another slight glimpse into my psyche.  Y'all have seen a lot of that throughout the course of my blogging.  I don't know whether you appreciate this but I'm going to keep writing until someone tells me to stop and even then...maybe not.

 

Okay, back to doing something more constructive, like watching paint dry, but not really.

 

Have a good one!

Angels and Ornaments

I finally put up my Christmas tree.  This one little act makes me incredibly happy to the core however, I can't lie to you guys, it also made me equally sad, I'll explain (sorta kinda) why shortly.

 

I had been trying to find the right time since the beginning of December at which time I could enjoy the endeavor, possibly put on some sappy Xmas movies on the tube and glitter myself to a state of euphoria.  Sunday early evening was the perfect time.  After running a few important errands, completing minor tasks for work, I hauled the boxes laden with the tree and ornaments up the stairs and into the front formal living room and I began to untangle the plastic branches (yes, I have a plastic tree, get over it).  It was half way through this that I became super melancholy.  I didn't have anyone around to help.  There's something wrong in putting up something like that without another living soul to chatter with or possibly sing carols slightly off-key with while misspeaking the words. 

 

So there I sat, at the base of the 7 footer without any adornments on it and my heart tightened.  I know why it did very well, I could tell you but then I'd have to kill you [insert a stupid chuckle here, the type when one thinks they are far too clever for even themselves] but actually the reason itself is private.  Weird, right, particularly when I maintain a personal blog full of nothing but my deepest thoughts but who are we kidding, far too many people who I know intimately well read this nonsense and although I love'm all, I most certainly do not need to go 'there'.  I'm a private person at the core of it all and have no need to go airing laundry, dirty or otherwise.

 

Suffice it to say I had to blink back tears on numerous occasions as I wrangled the top part of the tree to unfurled beauty.  I did sing carols even, although they came out almost mournful and sadly pathetic.  My soul wasn't doing well as I stood back and sighed heavily, trying not to break down completely and leaving this project also unfinished.  But since the holidays would be over before I could even blink, I had to do it or just stuff it all back in a box and call it quits.  There was a part of me that pondered this possibility.  However, I can be super stubborn and tenacious and I'm really good at pushing past my own pain in order to focus on something/someone else. 

 

That's my super power!

 

Just about then, as I was reaching for the lights which had been neatly wound into a neat ball last year, the front doorbell rang and I straight up jumped 10 feet.  I so wasn't expecting anyone to stop by.  Tentatively I opened the door and there stood a friend, her arms extended, a big smile stretched across her lips and within her hands she clutched a clear plastic box that contained cupcakes!

 

Her (in an uber happy cheery voice):  I was listing to the song Besharam and thought of you! So I decided to stop by and see my other besharam (without shame) friend.

 

Me:  Oh god I'm so happy to see you!

 

Drawing her in with a big hug, I had to turn away momentarily so she didn't see the tears of relief that had sprung to my eyes as I sent a "you're so awesome" to God for sending this angel to me.

 

I asked if she would like to help, thinking she would rush off but instead she whipped off her coat, rolled up the sleeves of her sweater and jumped in with enthusiasm, her as much a perfectionist in things like this as myself.  We began decorating, circling slowly, eyeing carefully, mindful for empty spaces and evenness while we yacked on about something or another, laughing about this and that, recalling whatever tidbit of information to share with each other.  It was so nice and after the tree had been completed, we turned off the lamps, flickered on the twinkling lights and sat on the sofa to gaze on at our handy work.  Below, you can see pictures of our efforts.

 

But let me say this, I honestly do thank the Almighty for the wonderful people that surround me.  I may not always show the appreciation but that doesn't mean for one second that within my very being I don't say prayers for all of them.  This girl, this wonderful girl who could have been doing anything else in the whole wide world instead of coming by to give me cupcakes, was truly a godsend.  

 

Let me confess:  Earlier I felt myself sinking into a sense of depression that would have been very difficult to pull myself out of even though I wouldn't let another soul know that it happened.  It wasn't surprising to me either, since things have been not going so well in life nor the direction it has been taking.  I'm not shockingly different from any of the other billions of folks to roam this fine round globe, not at all, and my problems are not even 1/1000th of what someone else is dealing with, so let's not dwell on the 'what's going on'.

 

Later, after she had departed to go home, I sat there in the darkened room for a lot longer, the depression creeping back in, the melancholy from earlier making a reappearance but that was okay.  I was, funny enough, secure that God at least saw my struggle and tried, for that moment in time at least, to take it away.

 

Sounds like a plan to me!

 

P.S.  The theme this year for the tree was red and silver.  This was not a thought out strategy but rather I went to the local crafts store earlier which was having a ridiculous 60% off on all holiday do-dads and bought 2 30-feet rolls of bendable ribbon.  Okay seriously, what the heck does one do with all that ribbon?  Why, you wrap it around your tree, of course.  I remember seeing this in some magazine or another and thought the idea was charming not to mention the fact that I could utilize the darn fabric on a more immediate sense and not have it on a shelf gathering dust.

That big bow on top?  I made it.  I'm a little proud of myself, I do admit.

 

And this is what one does when one can not sleep, it's 3am and every molecule in your body is being antsy and trying not to do the things people should not be doing that late at night, mainly making bad decisions.  Instead they make paper stars which they've never made before and almost nearly cut a finger off in the effort to replicate.  Not a bad job, eh? 

 

This ain't just entertainment

 

These last few weeks have been super busy.  The end of the year, the holidays, trying to get clients deliverables…delivered.  And then there are the endless amounts of parties and occasions to attend as is normal with this particular season.  Sadly, I haven’t gotten my tree up nor had much time to enjoy the lights and sparkle but I will…eventually.

I’m still intent on keeping up the blog although sometimes it gets hard because of all that I mentioned above.  Still I refuse to lapse back into the vortex of silence that I have before and in my quest, I’ve reached out for blog topics.  I was in fact in the midst of working on one when I was unceremoniously interrupted.  I mean, it’s not like someone came to me and put their hand on mine and stopped me but rather something else distracted me, as if has been distracting many of late.  Let me explain.

 
A few months ago a bizarre news article showed up on my FB feed.  The names were familiar, the topic well known.  And thus the distraction began.
 
Have you listened to the podcast called Serial?  It's a spinoff of a show called "This American Life" which has been on NPR (a radio station) for a while now.  It's about a kid, Adnan, who murdered his girlfriend Hae Min Lee (both 18).  He was convicted and sent to jail for life.  He's been there for 15 years now.  Haven’t listened to it?  Well you should, really, do it.
 

Let me just say this before I go any further:  I’ve struggled with the idea of posting this blog for weeks.  I’ve withheld comment for the most part, have reposted those articles/clips/news items that I found interesting enough to share but I have not joined the scads of junior crime detectives nor any of reditters who are intent to discuss the case and dissect it with a fine tooth comb.  Everyone has an opinion, that’s obvious but I just chose to withhold mine because frankly, I haven’t known what to say.  For nearly 15 years now I have (and do) believed in the innocence of Adnan and nothing has changed that especially not reading x, y or z’s comments on endless forums and with all due respect to Sarah, the journalist, her report.  I’ve found it enlightening to some extent to know more of the facts but that’s about it, it’s knowledge and with knowledge comes…not sure what because at this point, I’m still pretty sound in my belief.

Here’s a little bit of fact that most of you who follow the serial already know:   

Rabia, a close friend of Adnan's, brought the story to NPR after years of trying to make someone, anyone, listen because to her Adnan's innocence was as obvious as the nose on her very face.  Her persistence won and a podcast was born.  This one simple podcast has turned into quite the national/international sensation narrated in episodes released every Thursday mornings, rated the #1 most downloaded podcast in the USA, UK and Australia, its gaining momentum and popularity.  People everywhere are talking about it because unlike most murder mysteries, this one is different.  

The reporter, Sarah, is going about 'investigating' the murder and subsequent conviction as a totally 3rd party neutral.  She narrates the events in a soothing even voice (it's actually pleasant), mulling over ideas/theories, interviewing a myriad of different people who had been involved (and some not at all), traveling the familiar streets of Woodlawn, MD and asking the questions that many of us may ask without hesitation.  She gives this whole thing a far more 'human' twist because you can actually hear Adnan's voice/comments/thougths/reactions, those who knew Hae, community members, the accomplice.  It's all terribly...riveting.

So why am I writing about this, possibly just another online commentary about a case that has nothing to do with me but that I’m fascinated with?  Seems reasonable, I’ve done that in the past so why not this but…well that’s not quite the reason.  I’m a teeny weeny bit more vested in this particular ‘case’.  That’s because I know the family.   In fact, I was a part of the same community and that my parents still are.  The high school they reference?  My Alma Mater. 

Yea, crazy right?  It’s still super surreal for me and those friends of mine who are/were also a part of the community feel the same way.  Are they talking about Woodlawn?  Woah, weird.  That was my hang out, I can visualize everything Sarah is describing…bizarre!

Now since this podcast has become such a sensation, I didn’t decide to write about it simply because I crave any sort of attention.  I don't have that big of a readership anyhow that there is a chance for this to happen and that’s okay with me, I love my followers, as small as those numbers are but for anyone who has been following my blog for any length of time, you also know that for me blogging is a way of getting my thoughts on paper in order to purge. This is cathartic for me and moreover the reason I wanted to write about Adnan is that...well yes, I knew him. 

 
Did I know him like Rabia did?  No.  Nor like any of the various folks Sarah interviewed over the course of the show.  I know Adnan's mother though.  A lovely woman who was quick to smile, quick to tease and quick to laugh.  Note that I use the word "was".  When I was only but 16, Adnan must have been approximately 7ish...maybe my math is off.  This was about when I first met the dynamic Shamim Aunty and her gaggle of boys.  They would always be at the mosque, much like myself and was as much a fixture in the community as I.  I saw Adnan all the time walking by me, respectful, glasses perched on a face that was round and pleasant.  And his little brother was also with him.  That was closer to when I was ready to leave the mosque, when I was about 21 and juggling being a Sunday School teacher at ISB as well as studying and going to college had become hard to do. 
 
I had little interaction with this young kid, Adnan.  I think I yelled at him to not run in the mosque, as I was want to do to many a students, and I believe I may have given him a ride to their home, which was/is at the end of the block where I grew up.  They were good kids.  I knew the older brother a bit better, and the younger one was a rapscallion having the rambunctious nature of any child that young.  I recall often watching Shamim Aunty drive away with her boys in the car, giggling at the way little Yusuf's mop of curly hair would bounce around in the backseat, elevated slightly due to the child seat he would be perched upon.  Back then, I had two other very close friends who volunteered at the mosque.  When Aunty would see us, she would say, "Hello Golden Girls" not making a reference to the popular TV series but rather this was what she thought of us, we were her "golden girls".  She loved us, that was for sure and it’s important to stress this one point: They were a nice normal family. 

One of my most favorite persistent memories of Shamim Aunty was how she would show up every Sunday morning at the mosque to drop the kids off and in her hand would be a cup of McD's coffee.  I commented to her that couldn't she try to score something a bit better, back then Starbucks wasn't around, like Dunkin Donuts.  She would hold out her coffee, take a sip of it with relish and say, “no, this is the best stuff...and it's cheap too.”  I used to shake my head and laugh.  Yea, all good memories.

 

Many moons later, in California, my mother called to break the news of Adnan's arrest to me.  I was stunned, my mouth hung open and I sat down hard.  I will never forget this moment because P scrambled over to me when he saw my pale face and demanded to know what had happened.  He thought something about my family...he wasn't off the mark really.  The masjid community had been my family for so long that the news hit me like a full on speeding truck. 

 

Fast forward months in advance and I run into Shamim Aunty at the mosque during Eid.  I ask her what’s happening for they were in trial phase and she spilled it all to me.  How nothing was being done, none of the evidence was being looked at, the investigation was (and this was of course not her word) crappy.  She was helpless and frustrated, clearly confused and desperate, her face had aged and this alone had shocked me.  I told her, “get another attorney, you don’t have to have this one” but she demurred, she said it was too late.  I walked away agitated but understanding.  The legal system is intimidating and not one to navigate easily.

I told my mother later on, over a cup of tea, that I wish I could talk aunty into changing counsel.  But I put it out of my mind without thought, heading back to California and to my life.  I was so sure then that he would be acquitted so I wasn’t over worried.  I was so very wrong.

Anyhow, knowing these individuals as real people and not just ‘characters’ of some show and of course taking the time to actually listen to every single podcast (truthfully when I first started to listen, I didn't think about how it would hit me initially.  I took it in as I would had I been watching "Dateline" or "Forensic Files" but no, I quickly came to the realization that with every episode, as SK verbally drew out the streets that were those that I had traversed (and still do) during my most formative years, it was far too difficult not to be vested.  I couldn't listen to it as if it were pure 'entertainment'.  To me?  This was real life in all its horrid Technicolor.  I stopped after episode 1 until episode 8 came out when I started to listen again but through it all, I followed the growing popularity; it’s hard not to since it’s everywhere.)

So here are some basic thoughts I have about all this:

First, I believe he is innocent.  I have always believed it and it remains in my heart, firmly in place.  No one can convince me otherwise unless there is harder evidence other than Jay’s word (which is hole-y at best).

Second, I am saddened that so many have abandoned the family in our community, that there was no sense of real solidarity.  I can’t image the punch to the stomach that was on top of everything else.   (Here’s a quick sidebar story: I ran into Aunty again after Adnan's conviction and sentencing.  It was nearly a year later and because I'm a blunt person (sometimes this isn't a good trait) I asked her how Adnan was doing (taking into account that indeed how well could he be doing when one took all things into consideration).  Her eyes filled with tears and I felt deep remorse for having brought up a subject so sensitive.  I wanted to kick myself and immediately began to apologize profusely but she grabbed my hand and said in an almost pleading voice, "no, no please, ask about him, no one asks.  Everyone avoids asking.  I want you to ask, I want to talk about him".  Oh the desperation of a lost mother.  The heartbreak in her eyes was more than I could take and when I arrived home, I sat on the sofa wondering how the family was dealing with such a terrible every-damn-day reality.  That moment, when I looked into her eyes and felt her anguish, that moment has been etched into my psyche for years now.  For a person who can be deeply empathetic, this was way beyond my range to understand, way beyond my very comprehension.  This isn't intellectual; this is emotional, pure and simple.)

Third, when I first saw Adnan’s picture after so many years as a handsome boy of 18, I barely recognized him because my memory was of a much more roly-poly youth with glasses and clean shaven (of course).  I didn’t know this guy.  I didn’t know him at all and I still do not claim to know him.  His mother?  Yea, I know her.  She is a spiritual, religious and fun individual and I can tell you first hand, the light from her eyes had been snuffed 15 years ago even though she still manages a cheery smile, as Hae's mothers light has been too, I can only imagine. 

Fourth, I too suffered the same emotions that so many did during the course of these casts.  There were moments when I doubted my own instincts to outrage back to sorrow to ‘there is no way in hell…’ and so on and so forth.  But at the end of nearly every episode I always came back to ‘he’s innocent’.

Fifth, I cannot imagine to what extent this retelling is difficult for Hae’s family.  How do they deal with it?  Understanding that the murder of their beloved daughter probably is never far from their thoughts anyhow, but still…what must they be feeling?  How are they not reliving those god awful moments over and over again in the quiet of their home?

Sixth, I will never understand the depth or breathe of their pain and when I say ‘their’ I mean all of them, both Adnan’s family as well as Hae’s.  Never.  Not as long as I live and here’s a very selfish part of me speaking: I hope never to. 

Seventh, I recognize that this is real life.  This isn’t some show like Castle or any of the various ‘who done it’ prime-time jaunts in entertainment to rack up ratings.  This is real and there are a whole host of lives that have been living it for 15 years, not just 15 weeks.  These folks cannot turn the television off and go on about their business.  They can’t talk about it as a far removed observer.  This is all only too real.

Eighth, I believe in the greatness of God and that with time all things shall be revealed.  I am firm in my belief that this man (because I can no longer call him a boy) will find justice and that Allah (swt) may be taking time in delivering it but that it will happen.

Ninth, I also believe that Rabia is the angel, the very tool that Allah (swt) has sent to this family to show them the way.  I applaud her for her perseverance and tenacity. 

My last and final thought:  I profoundly wish that those who are not connected, who are simply looking at this as ‘entertainment’ keep in mind that this is in fact real and to show some damn sensitivity.  If this had happened to you, what then?  How would you like the world to behave?  Yea, think on that for a second.

As for now, I wait for the final episode although I’m 100% sure nothing ground breaking will be revealed unless it’s to say that Adnan has been released or the ‘smoking gun’ has actually been found.  No, Sarah won’t be telling us something that most of us do not already know.  It's funny how in the recent past, after it was 'revealed' that he is to have another hearing in January, folks everywhere screamed "spoiler alert".  This caused just such unfathomable disgust in me and this alone was really the reason I had to put all my thoughts down.  I'm afraid humanity has totally lost it's sense of proportion.  No one seems to have sympathy and respect for his/her neighbor anymore, privacy is a thing of the past and everyone has an opinion about something without knowing all the facts.  Feelings are no longer considered and something that would have otherwise been looked upon "in bad taste" is disguised and hidden behind a screen and therefore people do not feel accountable.

I can assure you this much, I will be listening this Thursday not for the entertainment value, I know what's going on and I know how things stand as of right now.  And I will pray...a lot.

That’s all that I can do.

 

 

Just Call me Bitter Betty

This is my diatribe.  I do this every few years.  I need to do this.  Everyone needs to do this.  I have the outlet of blogging to purge while others may find other openings.  Lately I’ve been bottling things up more and more but I know my self-destructive tendencies which make it even more important that I simply type out my inner thoughts. 

So here I go:

I am a nice person.  I am a kind person.  I am ‘human’.  I have a lot of fallacies, a lot of faults, and a lot of demons.  I am not perfect.  I am flawed to the greatest degree.  I am not better than anyone else out there; I could not even imagine being so.  I embrace my humanity and try to become a better person every single freakin’ day.  I struggle with inner demons that jeer at me, that whisper into my ears at night telling me to hurt those who hurt me, but I refuse.  I cannot stand seeing tears in the eyes of those I love.  I cannot simply rest easy knowing that I’ve hurt someone intentionally (or unintentionally If I find out).  I am not the type of person who is ‘mean’ and walks away feeling good about myself when/if I cause harm.  I’m just not that type of person.  I repeat: I am a kind person.  I am giving and generous and loving.  I believe that by being these things, I am closer to God.  I want to be close to Allah (SWT) because well frankly I really do not like excessive heat and heaven sort of sounds nice.

But do you know what the essential problem is for those who are ‘nice’, ‘kind’, ‘giving’?  They are easily taken advantage of and they are too stupid to realize it to some degree because by nature they believe in the inherent goodness that lies within the breast of humanity, and gives everyone the benefit of the doubt even when they should not.

I have done just this.  I say that I dislike people, and I do, but somewhere inside my soul I keep thinking that my negativity is a figment of my imagination and that in fact ‘people’ are kind.  I’m wrong.

I’ve been proven wrong on so many occasions that it stuns me that I’m still dopey enough to believe in anything such as ‘goodness’.  As I grow older and come closer and closer to my expiration date, the less and less I believe that there isn’t a single living soul out there who is not trying to get one up on their neighbors (which includes family, friends, strangers, dogs, cats, trees…) for their own sense of advancement.  I try to shake myself out of this, try to show myself examples of goodness but they are so very fleeting, restricted to only targeted individuals that it has become nearly impossible for me to trust anyone anymore.

Are you shaking your head at me?  Are you wondering and slightly bewildered?  Are you curious to know what’s happened to spur this blog?  Am I lashing out at any one individual, trying to send them a message?  Maybe I am.  I won’t lie.  That person doesn’t read my blog though and if that person did (too busy being wrapped up in their own lives), I would probably still not call them out because I’m just not that type.  I’m not about embarrassing and humiliating people.  I’m not about putting people in their places and showing them the errors of their way.  I simply hope and pray that one day they will have some sort of epiphany and that their eyes will open to how they are.  (SPOILER ALERT: doesn’t happen and if it does?  It’s rare.)

But if I’m to be totally 100% honest, I’m not speaking about just one person.  I’m speaking my stream of thought right now.  I’m speaking to anyone willing to listen. 

Here’s my suggestion for humanity, in my humble opinion…

STOP taking for granted those individuals in your life who has:

…Dropped everything they were doing to come to your rescue.
…Made you feel special.
…Loved you despite the worst side of you.
…Laughed with you even when the joke wasn’t that funny.
…Sat with you holding your hand when you cried.
…Glanced into the depth of your soul and seen the anguish.
…Asked for nothing in return but consideration.
…Given more of themselves than anyone else you can recall in memory without wanting nada.
…Willingly plays second fiddle to their own issues because you need them.
…Looked upon your face and can accurately guess what you’re feeling without you uttering a word.
…Encourages you when you have no courage left.
…Represents your sanity in a world of crazy.
…Plays your devil’s advocate even when you don’t think you need one.
…Loves you when you feel as if no one else in the world does or can.
…Believes in you, no matter that you may not believe in yourself.
…Is the quite cheerleader behind the scenes.
…Asks for nothing in return for all that he/she does (I said this before but it’s worth repeating).

Stop taking these people for granted.  Just stop.  Stop acting turning your backs on them when they most need you.  Stop behaving as if they add no value to your life because you damn well know they do.  Stop being a jackass to them for whatever twisted reasons you have.  I can assure you, your reasons…ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.  (BTW, one of my biggest pet peeves is the overuse of caps.  It’s annoying and if you can’t get a point across without it…don’t bother.  But in this instance, I couldn’t help but do so…which will help you realize how passionate I am about this particular topic.)

This is coming from the biggest schmuck to walk this earth.  I am the person who apparently does not do, and still is told I do not do, enough.  Do you know how hard it is to hear those words?  Even if they are not said just like that?  But to be shown that you’re not worth anyone’s time and effort is a lash to the soul.  I’ve gone through my life trying to please everyone, and I mean everyone.  I’ve spared no one.  I’ve been misunderstood and abused (not physically, that ain’t happening) and I have, do not doubt, been emotionally destroyed which has been accompanied with rivers of bitter tears when realization has hit me that I’ve allowed this to happen…to myself.

So maybe you’re thinking, why do you allow this?  Why don’t you stop it?

Read the very 6th line of this blog (yes, I actually counted):  I am a nice person.

I somehow do not have the heart to treat anyone as crappily (this is a word now) as I have been treated.  My intellect screams at me that if I don’t appreciate it, then why would anyone else?  Additionally, I just can’t seem to grasp the idea of ‘an eye for an eye’.  That just doesn’t fly with me.  I believe honestly, that I will be smote (wait, I actually think that’s a word, right?).  I have convinced myself that no matter the abuse and negativity hurled at me, if I react or do something in (justified) retribution, karma will come and bite me (not them) in the butt.  How twisted is this logic? (Granted this comes with a healthy dose of what I call “Muslim Guilt” which is akin to debilitating “Jewish Guilt”.)

But then again, is it possible that if everyone in this world lived by this logic (aka guilt), wars and sadness, hate and crimes would be reduced to near nothingness?  I believe, nay am convinced, that this is a distinct possibility.  If we could all simply continue to recall how we would want to be treated, it would be so super simple to keep in mind how we would eventually treat others.  OMG, have I tapped into something big here?

No, probably not.

Yea, so if you’re the person out there who blithely ‘uses’ someone for your convenience, because you need advice, they are always available and eager,  you are bored and your ‘cooler’ friends aren’t around or simply have nothing better to do, think twice.  Guess what?  That person has feelings also.  Yes, the same feelings you have.  The best way to understand how they MAY feel about your treatment towards them?  Just put yourself in their place.  Is that too hard for you, Cupcake?  Well, get over yourself.  Realize that you are likely not the center of the universe and when THAT person (who has stuck by you through thick and think) finally gives up and dissipates into the mist because they have remembered their worth and decides to leave your lame butt in the dust, then honestly you have no one left to blame but yourself.

There are plenty of people out there who are good within their souls.  They epitomize the very meaning of kindness.  They are rare also for all their “plentifullness”.  They are the ones, when you find them; you should stop handling them like total crap.  They are worth far more than the ‘fly by the seat of my pants’ and ‘party animal’ individuals who may be a hell lot more fun but also add nothing to your existence.  Those are not the ones who take the time to steer you in the right direction while their own lives may be falling apart.  The ‘fun’ ones are fair weather friends, I assure you.  How can I say that with such confidence?  Because I’ve had those also.  And I’ve equally (read that as mostly) been the one to have been taken advantage of without thought.

I’m done with this, Folks.  I really am.  I intend to give no one else the ‘benefit of the doubt’.  I’m now a part of the elite group of individuals who believe that it’s best to be pessimistic right off the bat and justly trust that absolutely everyone is up to no good.  Don’t get me wrong, this morphing of my personality has been happening for a long time and it’s saddening. 

I recall the young woman I was at one time who believed in rainbows and unicorn (alright not really but I was way more positive then this present bitter Betty),  I no longer do.  Alas, do not blame me though, blame society. 

Pass the Gravy...First.

Y’all know how much I love the holiday season, right?  I mean I love it.  I’ve said this so many times that a few of you are probably rolling your eyes, mentally saying, “yea, yea, move on, tell us something new”.  But this is an important stress point for me.

Honestly it does not matter that I’m Muslim, I LOVE Christmas.  It’s the lights, the sounds, the good cheer, the smell of cinnamon and winter in the air.  I can’t help but loving the bright colors and hustle and bustle of it all, and yes, I’ve been known to fall into a little bit of a funk after it’s all over.  So understanding all this, also get that what I’m about to say comes deep from within my soul:  I really hate that Christmas seems to be coming earlier and earlier every year.

A few weeks ago, before Halloween, I went to the grocery store and saw this:

This pic was posted on Oct 22

I was absolutely appalled. 

Shortly thereafter came the commercials on TV, the Hallmark (Damn You) relentless Christmas movie extravaganza and finally the decorations.  And I’m thinking to myself, "wait is it December already?!?!  How the heck did I miss November so seamlessly?”  Lo and behold, a friend confirmed that it was indeed still the 10^th month in the calendar year and that the turkey holiday was yet to descend upon us leaving us in a tryptophan induced coma. 

Pardon me for saying this but something is seriously twisted about this world where we are unable to slow down, not even to save our lives.  Has this become our culture?  Is the message now:  never mind the journey, just get to the final destination?   Has time honestly stopped mattering?  I’m confused is why I’m asking these questions.  This is bewildering to me but then again, may be I'm just not smart enough to get it?

And I’m not just talking about Christmas starting to show itself before Halloween.  I also speak of Valentine’s appearing in all its red hearted glory and diapered cupidness even before the human race screams in the new year in a drunken stupor.  Easter eggs can be found weeks upon weeks before the actual day and the list goes on and on. 

I remember as a child the anticipation of the upcoming holidays being overwhelming.  Maybe due to the shortness of my own existence at that point, everything seemed to move slower somehow.  Summers were longer, the two weeks of Christmas break seemed like so much time and the distance between birthdays was endless.  Life moves slower to a child, but in a joyous savory way.  How lovely is this?  Too bad adults cannot do the same.

The child I had been found untold joy in espying the twinkling lights which were reserved for only after the turkey had been eaten and the apple pie consumed.  Our neighbors would be out the very next weekend stringing lights while the malls started to ‘dress up’ with tinsel.   And speaking of malls, Santa didn’t arrive before December 1^st, Santa knew better.  Now, Santa shows up even before Turkey Day.  Santa done lost his mind and Mrs. Claus needs to check him, that’s a fact!

Okay, but in all seriousness, People, this actually is a bigger problem, in my opinion.  When we can no longer slow the hell down to take in what we have at the moment we're having it, it’s safe to say that something is wrong with society as a whole.  And of course retail companies/stores are more than happy to egg us along by stocking shelves with nonsense that is not applicable to our lives at that specific moment. 

Let's just stop the madness.  Let's stop looking so far ahead into the future.  I understand that the excitement can get to us but really, just put on the brakes.  I mean, what guarantee is there that we'll be around to see it?  Heck, there is no assurance that we will survive the next second, so how are we arrogant enough to think of next week or next month?

Now, I'm not immune to the whole pre-pre-pre-holiday spirit.  I've found myself in the last week or so walking around singing some random Christmas carol, doodling decorated trees on a notepad or indulging (a lot) in those stupid sappy holiday movies.  I can't help it since I'm human but I also know that by the time Xmas rolls around, I'll be overloaded.  I just want to look forward to Thanksgiving with my family, maybe make plans to go Black Friday shopping.  Is this simple request too much to ask?  I promise after that I have every intention of re-discovering the wonder of Christmas and anticipate the big day (which also happens to be my birthday).

You have my 2cents worth.  Go do with it what you wish, which probably is nothing. 

P.S.  Here's a picture of what the courtyard of my work looks like.  This was taken last Friday.  :|

Enjoy the rest of your day!

Some Hard Truths and a Lesson on Judging

Several weeks back, I came to work and my office mate, who is a 33-year-old pretty young black woman with a vivacious nature, strikes up a conversation about the Ebola outbreak.  She’s talking in a more stream of consciousness than anything else as she peppers me with questions that has been probably weighing in her thoughts.  I’m not sure how this happens but we go from that to the discussion about flu shots and then suddenly to kids.  Go figure.

And it’s interesting to me to observe how slightly worked up she becomes as she speaks of the stigma that women have to deal with when they decide to delay having children.  Oh and there are many, I assure you, from personal knowledge. 

So here I am blogging after a long time.  Since my last entry back just before Ramadan ended, I have had many topics that popped into my head but work put the kibosh on any intentions.  And then there was the fact that by the time I get home, my brain doesn’t function well enough to actually form full sentences.

But today I feel renewed vigor.  My fingers itch to write about this, maybe it is because this topic is near and dear to my heart.

Let me say this off the bat:  Life isn’t easy for a woman in her 40s who is in a stable relationship but doesn’t have kids.  It seems to most that the natural next step is to breed.  Not that I don’t agree to some extent but then again when I discover that a happily married couple who has been hitched for over 5+ years do not have kids, I don’t promptly clutch my chest and act as if they’ve committed a grave sin. 

Let me just tell you how many times this similar thing has happened to me, on multiple occasions.  I’ve had one lady say to me that I’m ‘wasting’ my life by not popping a few out.  Another well intentioned aunt said to me almost blithely, at the local mosque during a holiday, “enough focusing on your career have a child, that’s more important.  You will never feel whole until you do so.”  I stared at this woman with my mouth slightly dropped open, resisting the intense urge to punch her, in her uterus.

My upbringing and sense of respect held me back from saying, “what’s wrong with focusing on my career?  And why are you assuming it’s just that which holds me back?”

These questions about children have literally peppered my existence since the age of 23.  And other than my family and my closest of friends who I give 100% right to inquire into my lack of child status, the rest of humanity has absolutely NO right to judge my decisions.  And at the peak of my personal ire against such thoughtless individuals who thought they almost had a duty to remind me of my duty to produce children, I said the following to one particular person: “you’re making the assumption that I can have children.  Well I can’t.  I hope that’s explanation enough for you.”  I responded like this with every intention to see how uncomfortable they would get and ultimately whether they would feel stupid.  Unfortunately in my culture, asking such intimate questions is nothing to be embarrassed about.  She didn’t even blink. 

It is not easy to speak of my childless state.  I have never written about it. In the past it has been simply dealing with this knowledge on a personal level that has kept me from writing out my thoughts, as well as the fear of being pitied.  But I assure you, pity?  I most certainly do not want nor need it.  I’ve gone through the despair of knowing that a biological child of my own is not possible.  I’ve gone through all the stages of grief and I did so quietly, years back.  I’ve watched as friends have gotten pregnant, sharing the information with the world with excitement and I’ve been over the moon happy for them.  I’ve witnessed cousins younger than me expand their family and have mentally blessed them.  I’ve held absolutely no grudges against those who can, only because I cannot.  I’ve even been told, almost apologetically, by kind souls, that they are expecting.  My heart has been overwhelmed by the kindness in their eyes when they are taking my feelings into account, even above their own joy.  How can I ever begrudge that happiness, though?  Never.  Not me.  I believe I’m a better person than that.

But yes, I’ve also cried quietly in the darkness of my room due to a house that should have heard laughter and pitter patter of tiny feet.  I also want a messy home that I complain about, the day to day issues that come along with the existence of children.  My home is far too quiet and far too big for only two people.  Every success pales in comparison to the fact that I am unable to have the one thing I want…a little piece of immortality (not a precisely direct quote from Steel Magnolias but one of my favorites).  Here’s a fact I know accept:  Biologically speaking, I’m broken.  And there is no return policy to go along with it.

In case you were wondering, this isn’t easy stuff to write down.  In fact this has been a blog long time in coming.  I’ve mulled it over on various instances when I felt the need to release my thoughts but always held back.  Why?  I’m not sure.  Society, superstition, fears, judgment…it’s all in the mix I suppose.  But there is no point anymore.   I’ve embraced my reality however; it’s taken walking down a very long, lonely heartbreaking road to get here.  There is nothing brave or remarkable about the place I’m in mentally, it just is what it is and maybe my faith that Allah (swt) knows best is the only thing that brings me any sense of comfort in believing that this was never meant to be, that I could not fight what was predestined or a biological fail, for that matter.

But this blog isn’t about me actually, although it may seem that way.  Of course it ties into my life since it’s something that hits home but still, I’m more interested in my colleagues’ issue.

Basically, why do people assume that the ONLY reason a woman chooses not to have a child is because she’s ONLY focused on her career?

This is an interesting question.  I’ve noted that far too many are way too quick to jump to incorrect (and asinine) assumptions.  As women become far more career minded and business savvy, the world is quick to adopt the idea that the traditional roles of women are also going by the wayside.  My first question to these folks would be:  define ‘traditional roles of women’?  Re-read history and you’ll see for yourself how women have stepped up to the plate for ages to not only be the person cooking the bacon, but bringing it home as well, along with raising kids and doing all the other nonsense that comes along with having a uterus.  Hence this whole idea that career trumps baby is actually quite ridiculous.  But yes, there is one fact; women are waiting longer and longer to have them.  I won’t argue this point.  It’s obvious if I go by just my friends group alone.  But below are a few more reasons that women decide not to take the second biggest plunge of their lives (after marriage) and say ‘yes’ to an eternity of being the watch dog of another human being:

1.)     Career.  Sure, this is a biggie.  We women are finally out there making a name for ourselves.  No longer are we satisfied with the title ‘mom’ even if that brings us untold joy (and one I would give my soul for).  We want something different, possibly ‘more’, a mark we leave behind other than in the form of DNA and so you have a whole gaggle of women who have decided to put the mother thing on hold for the sake of late nights at the office, a paycheck and climbing up the corporate ladder. 

2.)    Time.  Seems like such a commodity.  For those active individuals who have a fulsome life, they simply don’t have that sort of time to spare.  Good or bad, right or wrong, it’s simply a matter of choice. 

3.)    Funds.  From what I understand, the little buggers (kids) are expensive.  And even once they’re out of your home, you’re still somehow paying for them whether in tuition, 20 bucks here and there or whatever.  Some folks simply can’t afford this and decide it’s better to hold off until such time that they can actually pony up and take responsibility.  Right on.  This to me is pretty damn admirable.  Aren’t there enough people on the system who need help?  Why add to it?

4.)    I just don’t want kids.  That seems pretty harsh, right?  Who doesn’t want children?  Well…plenty.  Through my life I’ve come across more than a handful of couples/individuals who have pretty much shrugged their shoulders and said, ‘we’re (I am) happy the way we (I am) are’.  More power to you, who am I to judge?  Sometimes it’s nice to hand a child back over to their parents and go home to your quiet abode where you can watch TV in your skivvies if you wish and know that when you want a scoop of ice cream, there is no fear that it was filched by tiny hands.

5.)    I can’t be responsible for another human being.  Look, I can totally understand this one.  I know how my parents struggled to bring me up to act right, and that doesn’t always happen.  I can’t imagine taking on that sorta responsibility and it scares me to death.  Personally though, this thought didn’t frighten me enough to not want a kiddo of my own, but there are others out there who also think secretly, ‘crap, I can barely take care of myself, how the hell am I going to bring up someone else?’  

6.)    I have so much I still want to do.  If you’re one of those people who went through their formative years with nose to the grindstone in school and then as a professional, there comes a time when they want to reap the benefits of both, namely, let me spend all this hard earned money doing something I want to do for a change.  This could mean traveling the world, writing a book, becoming a professional wine taster, learning acrobatics…whatever but the point is, you don’t want to go carting a kid around hither and yon, uprooting them in the process.  So best not to have them while you get all this nonsense out of your being.  These individuals want to enjoy the fruits of their labor and frankly, I do not see anything wrong with this.

7.)    Think green.  This isn’t the obvious but after discussing and consulting with some pretty smart women, this was brought up to me.  There are enough people on the planet destroying the earth and leaving carbon footprints that we cannot control.  And frankly, the future of the planet doesn’t look all that great anyhow.  I, should I be able to miraculously produce kids, would be fearful about their future due to what’s going on in our environment.  This reasoning doesn’t sound…erm…reasonable?  Hey, every reason, no matter what, is a valid enough one if you’re the one making it, right? 

8.)    Health risks.  Giving birth to begin with is dangerous business.  Although the mortality rate is much lower than say when a woman would have to give birth at home or squatting in fields (or possibly that was better?), that doesn’t mean that to some certain extent the whole thing doesn’t put the females in eminent danger as they’re pushing the lil buggers out.  Just sayin’.   And in certain cases, the doctors tell the mother that there is great risk in continuing a pregnancy or having a baby in the first place.  The decision to cherish your life above an unconceived child’s is no less painful than having an abortion for the same reason (no, this blog will not swerve into a Pro-Life/Pro-Choice debate). 

It’s been a few weeks since I wrote all the above.  I re-read it and haven’t been able to come up with any additional reasons although I do not doubt that there are tons more floating around in the world. 

In reading this entry, I hope that you restrain yourself from feeling sorry for me; if that’s the way you’re leaning.  Every one of us has our own battles we fight.  Some are obvious, some are quiet, and all are painful on an individual basis.  Is this the greatest pain of my existence?  Yes, it is.  I can say that without blinking.  Have I dealt with it?  Yes, I have.  Am I still dealing with it?  Yes, I am.  Do I let this stop me from breathing?  In the past, I have.  Has this stopped me from finding joy in life?  No, I haven’t.  Do I still cry when I’m alone?  Not as much as I used to but sometimes when I hear the giggle of a baby, tears indeed spring to my eyes.  But you know what I learned?  What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and I am strong and I have Allah (swt) on my side who shows me that I have infinite amounts of things to be thankful for and that I should take not one of those things for granted because although this may be my burden to bear, others have it way worse.

This situation with me has also taught me another big lesson and that is not to judge why others chose the path in life they chose.  For a while now, I’ve decided that if I am not privy to the details regarding why someone is doing something specific and it doesn’t impact my life in any way, shape, or form, then it’s also none of my business.  Pure and simple.  This attitude has served me well.

Just sayin’…

To Explain or Not to Explain...

Blogs aren't easy to write.  In case you were wondering.  In fact, writing of any sort is just not as simple as it sounds.  Period.

 

I needed to start this entry with that line as explanation, and it smacks of contrition.  Well, I am.

 

July was my last post.  This surprises me, to be honest.  It's now November, nearly Thanksgiving.  When did the year zoom by so seamlessly?  Things have happened, though.  A lot of things have happened in fact.  Life has altered and changed, become busy and on occasion slowed down.  Since the slowness has been few and far in-between moments, I've restricted myself to doing nothing more than closely resembling a vegetable on the sofa.  Pulling out the laptop once home hasn't been a very compelling idea nor on the top of my 'to-do' list.  That doesn't mean my spirit didn't/hasn't berate(d) me for my spectacular laziness.

 

I also can claim that I've become a horrible victim of writer's block.  Folks who have been following my blog for a hot second are probably nodding their head glumly.  You know only too well how once I've hit that wall, it's over for a few days/weeks/months.  BTW, some people may think that there is no such thing as 'writer's block' but I can assure you, being a pseudo-writer, it's very real and the bane of my existence. 

 

But it's not just that words are escaping me, it's the full landscape of my world.  Fact: when life takes over, it takes over in the most breathtaking way.  There's nothing to really put your finger on, to be able to boil it down and point the finger at one big honking good valid reason.  I can make a sweeping statement by saying, "I'm busy with work" or "family" or "love" but all the time?  Even I wouldn't believe myself had I not been living my own life.  For as much as the above sounds like excuses, they are the truth.  

 

Truly though, my blog hasn't been too far from my mind at any given time.  I walk around and something will happen or I'll see something interesting and think to myself, "I really should write about this."  However, the words never actually materialize on paper.  And I'm constantly worried that with every day that slips by, the few readers who followed me, will slip further and further away until I'm the only one reading my writing.

 

PLEASE DON'T GO!  *cries out hysterically*

 

Erm...okay sorry, that was a bit unnecessary.

 

Okay, enough explanations! 

 

I actually do have a post I've been working on.  I plan to try to get that up today, after editing.  Let's see how that goes since editing is the biggest problem for me, it never goes as smoothly as I hope.  I'm way too much a freak about my thoughts being fulsome for me to be casual about it.  Oh, the silly issues of my existence. 

 

Anyhow, onwards and upwards.