Out with the old

I've been shirking posting this post for some time. Because it's sad and disappointing, although trivial. But it was destined to happen some time. I spent about 5 hours with a friend of mine last last Thursday looking for a new hat. We basically went into every store that carried hats in the entire mall (and it's quite a large mall). We even went back to the store where I bought my original hat. After the hours we spent popping in and out of shops turned up nothing unique, I settled for this hat: It's just brown and beige and pinkish and blue. It's...normal. Everyone I showed it to simply shook their heads at me. People were telling me how disappointed they were in me because of the lack of individuality expressed in my new hat. They say that it just doesn't compare with my duck hat. And I did check out the TTC lost and found, but nothing. Oh well, it keeps my head moderately warm. But that still doesn't change the fact that I feel like I've betrayed my old hat by cheating on it.

Omee

Ever notice how if your mom cooks something it tastes great, then when you try to cook the same thing, it tastes weird? Or how if you wake up and she's not at home you feel...empty and disoriented? Or how she knows exactly how late you're going to sleep in every morning so she packs a lunch for you even though you're 20 years old because she is so awesome? I was late once, as usual, and I was running out the door to catch the bus and she handed me a brown paper bag. So, I checked it out on the bus and, well, it was a good mom-ish lunch. It made my day. Alhamdulillah for my mom. Kind of makes me want to get a Mom tattoo on my arm... But then I don't think she'd like that very much :D

ADD?

Right. Sometimes I think that I have some kind of developmental disorder. For example, I have trouble doing the readings for my courses. I'm just not motivated in the least. I've tried reading at home in my room, and with the door locked - it doesn't work, I just end up thinking about how I'm missing my favourite show on the Food Network or how I have to organize all of my receipts or some such nonesense. I've tried the library near my home - this past Sunday, I read 30 pages in 3.5 hours. I just kept staring out the window: "my, what a windy day it is." I've tried school - but I get distracted by people I know, my stomach grumbling, my sudden urges to call up friends for no reason, etc. Suggestions would be helpful. Then again, Alhamdulillah :)

This little pill

Okay, it's not that I have anything against going to sleep, but I have the strangest dreams. Don't get me wrong, they're not nightmares, they are just very very odd. Take this as an example: I dreamt a few days ago that my friend dressed up as Santa Claus. But, you know how in your dreams you just KNOW things. Well, I KNEW that he was supposed to be Santa Claus, but when I looked at him, he was a chicken. Dressed in a huge chicken costume. It was ridiculous. His mom was also getting angry with him because he looked like, well, a moron. And, to top it off, it was at one of his relatives' wedding. It gets worse. So, for some reason, all the wedding guests are divided into groups to play a game. What is the game, you ask? Well, one person from your group chooses an Urdu word and then says it out loud then everyone else sort of chants it out after them. Yes, that was the game. So, my turn came up and I had to think of an Urdu word. But, well, I couldn't. So, the chicken was staring at me and yelling "c'mon, you must know some Urdu words!" Then, just my luck, the athan rang out and everyone dispersed for prayer. Then, when I left the wedding, I went to a restaurant with some miscellaneous friends and this guy, Michael Smith, from Chef at Home was behind the counter: He started talking to me like we were old friends, then proceeded to offer me a job at the restaurant (which I, by the way, happily accepted). If someone has pills they could share with me, please do.

Certainty

Revaluating the purpose of one's existence is never easy. One moment I'm confident and certain about who I am and what I'm doing and the next, I'm hurtled into this muddle - a great big mess of something that I can't quite control. Everything changes. But I've come to realize, perhaps very late in life, that you can always be certain of Allah (SWT). He is unchanging, unwavering, unalterable - the opposite of everything and everyone in this world. Sometimes I forget that there is someone watching me who knows what I'm thinking, where I'm going, and why. And when I stop to pray, I stand in front of Him, knowing that He, in His great deafening silence, is always there waiting for me, this unworthy self, to return. "And when my servants ask you concerning Me, I am indeed near. I respond to the invocations of the supplicant when he calls on Me. So let them obey Me and believe in Me, so that they may be led aright" (Qur'an 2:186).

Brain Freeze

I lost my hat coming home today, on the subway. My head will be cold now. After I left the subway and boarded my bus, I reached for my hat, just as a comfort thing. But it wasn't there. I checked in my pockets (a stupid place to check, I know), in my backpack, on the floor of the bus...I was frantic. The other passengers must have thought I wasn't well. So, I figured that I must have left it on the subway car. Here's a picture of my friend, the chicken, that was on my hat: I am very sad. I always celebrated the uniqueness of my hat. It was the Asmaa Hat. Now I'll probably have to conform and buy a regular old black one or something of that sort. Maybe it's time. Email me if you want to come to the mall with me, eat ice cream and cry, then go shopping for a new one.

Idle hands

I came here to type something. Something of any benefit or use or to explain some random event that has happened. Something that would make you laugh or even smile in the least. Perhaps I should remark on the strangely mild weather we've been having, or my first week back at school or how I lost one of my socks in today's laundry. But all of a sudden I realize that there's nothing behind this screen of yours. Just angry fingers that type idly for a purpose that has yet to be determined. The emptiness that surrounds every inch of myself is so difficult to describe. I don't say the words I feel because that would mean I was explaining the state of mind which I'm in. To explain it is to understand it. And it can never be understood. Words are the play things of intelligent men and the folly of the average. Indeed, I falter.

Class Notes

How long can I hold your breath? Misplaced drawings on the side of my page reveal more than the irrational words scrawled, line after fallen line; Symmetrical and A. unexpected flowers blossom around each binder hole, coiled on this fragmented paper of mine. And, in the margins written over and over rubbed out over and over: Your name touches the tips of my fingers.

Sock Library

You know you hate it when you lose one pair of your socks in the laundry procedure. Many people will swear that it's the dryer that eats them up... So I'm trying to come up with a system where I have an inventory of all of my socks. The plan is, each of my socks gets a mug shot to go to the proper authorities (mom) once it gets lost. The authorities will then take the necessary measures to locate the missing sock and bring it back to safety. My sheep ankle socks, they make me laugh. My famed Elmo socks, which I love. But unfortunately, one of the pair has recently acquired a hole, so I can't wear them anymore. Now, these are my black men's socks that I "borrowed" from my brother's drawer when he went on a business trip. I borrowed several pairs. I saw these once and I had to buy them. I always thought that Piglet was just too cute for his own damn good. These socks make my toes look like sausages, which is quite appropriate. These ones are really warm and fuzzy and were given to me by a friend :) Monkeys. Bananas. It makes no sense and I have no explanation except that I wanted to own them. Then, there are the plain and boring grey socks that we all have. Ahh, boring yet sturdy. Now these socks tick me off because their elasticity has worn down, so the material bunches up at my ankle. These pink socks are only worn when I have no other clean socks. Yes, it's true: behind every sock, a story. (If you haven't realized this already, I just wanted an excuse to post up pictures of my socks for no reason whatsoever except that I felt like it.)

Feeling oh so...red?

I might be years behind, but I just found out that chameleons change colour according to their emotions, and not simply to camouflage themselves. A distressed or angry chameleon turns a dark colour - almost black. A relaxed chameleon becomes a more normal greenish colour. A chameleon turns yellow or red-orange when it wins a fight. Total relaxation renders them almost white. An "excited" one becomes an explosion of colours and patterns. SubhanAllah, the Ultimate Brilliance. Kind of makes you wonder how much simpler life would be if you could read people's emotions this easily.

Because she told me to

wannabe nerd says: yo can u like please update ur freaking blog! Asmaa says: why are you so freaking obsessed with it? wannabe nerd says: i dunno wannabe nerd says: cuz its freakin weird wannabe nerd says: like me wannabe nerd says: and i need my daily dose of weirdness Asmaa says: that shouldn't be too hard wannabe nerd, just take a gander in the mirror wannabe nerd says: hahhaa wannabe nerd says: very funny wannabe nerd says: now go update ur blog man!!! Asmaa says: what if I say no? wannabe nerd says: then umm i won't be ur friend anymore wannabe nerd says: and no birthday gift for u! Asmaa says: Fiiiiiiiiine. Watch this... Upon the request of wannabe nerd, I've decided to post "A day in the life of Asmaa..." (Umm, I'm not really sure why this is in third person, but what the heck.) Once upon a time, there lived a mediocre type girl. Every day she would wake up for fajr, go back to sleep, then have her mother wake her up with the call "Asmaa, get up, you're going to miss Zuhr!" Asmaa had some favourite pastimes, including making ridiculously bad jokes about how she hadn't posted on her blog since last year. It was alright for the first day, then she began receiving threats on her life if she didn't stop with these painful jokes. Days passed with her coming to the aid of damsels in distress over very important blog issues. Like, "Asmaa, how do I change my blog header. It's a matter of life and death." Asmaa spent her days of freedom in quiet solitude of her room, reading books that were utterly and completely useless. Asmaa would sometimes inch her way down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she could easily spend a few hours. Life was good for the girl of deep and shallow thoughts. When night dawned, she stayed up reading or bumming or surfing blogs that weren't half as cool as hers. She enjoyed going to bed after everyone else was already asleep. After all, with a big family, it's nice to have some quiet time. Okay okay, I'll stop.