Randomly Placed

being "religious" in context

2012-01-23T06:44:00.001-05:00

I've been in Egypt for a little over 6 months now. The experiences have been strange, enjoyable, lonely, and maddening all at once. Soon after I was married I learned how to use micro-buses - before I figured out their haphazard yet somewhat systematic methods of operation, it seemed it would be really difficult to get a hang of riding them. But now I can flag them down, look for a seat that hopefully doesn't involve a man's body pressed up against mine, bring out a pound to pay the driver, and yell at the top of my lungs when I want to get off.

I know the best places to buy fruits and vegetables in our neighbourhood. I now know the kinds of food that I like - it took a little discovering, but now I know never to let herring (and other icky Egyptian foods) touch my lips again. I've mostly figured out how to cook, and I've generally got a routine going in my life. So I'm slowly getting used to it here, and not to say that I wouldn't jump at the opportunity to leave, but it doesn't seem as hopeless as it once did.

And now, the problem; I haven't yet learned how to be 'religious' in Egypt. Don't get me wrong, I do all the same acts of worship I used to at home. The essentials haven't changed. And yet I don't feel as though I'm at the same level of religiosity as I once was.

Being raised as a Muslim in the western world gave me a certain attitude towards religion. It was something precious that needed to be constantly maintained, and this meant you needed to be a struggling soul swimming against the current. If you didn't hold on to religion with every ounce of energy you had, you could lose it in an instant.

Everyone thinks it's easier to be religious in majority-Muslim countries, and perhaps that is correct in some senses - i.e. close proximity to mosques, more opportunities for learning, being surrounded by people who don't misunderstand you and therefore having more freedom to explore religious issues within your own community, etc. But for me, I feel that it's harder to be religious in a majority-Muslim country because there is less of a drive for me to struggle.

Perhaps I have always been a bit of a rebel ready to swim upstream, always ready to snap back at racist comments made to me, always holding on with my teeth to my identity as a Muslim woman. Many of those things defined my very existence as a Muslim. And now suddenly I don't have to exert the same kind of effort anymore. Most Egyptians are 'religious' at least in a basic way. When I walk down the street, I'm like every other woman - nothing distinguishes me from her.

And so that external struggle has gone. I know in my heart of hearts that the struggle should never end - rather it should be inverted into an internal struggle instead. I do know that just letting yourself swim along with the current makes your muscles weaken. The last thing I'd want is the atrophy of my ability to hold on to my identity as a Muslim. I'm very slowly re-learning how to be religious in a different context. It's hard, but I refuse to give up. After all, what would my sad rebel soul do if it wasn't struggling against something, even if that something is myself?

did you know that I cook things?

2012-01-15T15:00:00.001-05:00

When I first got married, I had very few cooking skills. Everything that I knew about cooking came from vaguely passing through the kitchen while my mom was cooking, and from watching MasterChef and other Food Network shows. I had no desire to cook, but I did love to watch food shows.

In the months prior to getting married, my mom offered several times to teach me how to cook. But me being the clueless and uncooperative person that I am lead me to adamantly refuse while saying things like "my husband can cook for himself" and other nonsensical strings of words. Needless to say, when I was finally faced with the reality of having to cook, I felt like a chicken with its head cut off. Some of the things that happened to me while I was learning:

-Once we bought a freshly slaughtered chicken and it still had the head attached - I refused to cook it until my husband cut the head off while I was not present.
-I once had to clean a chicken that still had its guts intact. I gagged all through the experience, then was unable to eat the cooked chicken due to my squeamishness.
-I made rice that was the consistency of lumpy oatmeal.
-I burned myself (and continue to do so) on a regular basis. And I burned food.
-I didn't think marinating meaty things prior to cooking was that important.

etc.

In the months following this, I came to realize that there are just a few general rules to cooking, and then all else is pretty simple. It's kind of interesting to produce edible things. Allrecipes.com is now my ultimate favourite website. Here are some of the things I've cooked:

Meat and spinach pies, YUM (If I do say so myself)

Home-made pizza

Fried chicken fingers and fries

Spinach Spanakopita

An Egyptian twist on chicken biryani

Chicken goulash

Stuffed peppers

Chicken soup & rice, mom's style

I'm getting hungry now. Awesome.

2012-01-13T18:19:00.001-05:00

things

They Hate Me.

2011-12-27T08:17:00.000-05:00

When we were young we believed that love could conquer all - that just by hoping with all your heart that the world would be a better place could make it so. I used to think that the louder I shouted about injustices, the faster they would be resolved. I used to know things for sure, I used to believe in the goodness of people over their evil.

The last few years have been like anchors, slowly pulling my head down out of the clouds. I've begun to see that there are very few things in life that are simply black and white. I've begun to lose hope in the world. I don't know when exactly I started to feel this way, but I think that all the hatred for Muslims and Islam that is now a part of worldwide political and social dogma is at the root of these feelings. It's now becoming apparent that it is acceptable to insult and humiliate Muslims without facing substantial criticism. Entire governments are anti-Islam.

Even in Egypt where I am now stationed, the case is the same. You'd think that in a majority Muslim country, you'd be less exposed to anti-Islam rhetoric, but unfortunately that is just not true. Recent elections brought the Muslim Brotherhood and a Salafi Party into "power" (and I'm not yet sure what that even means considering the turmoil surrounding the military's current rule). I'm alright with people disagreeing with these parties' politics, as I'm sure I don't agree with all of them myself. But the anti-Islam rhetoric coming from "liberal" media has been so immense and heartbreaking that I usually just stop reading or turn the TV off.

And my heart hurts more every time I read or watch something about some new person or entity hating me. And I say "me" because the personal is political and the political is personal. Part of me wishes I could escape to a mental state where I was more hopeful in people seeing truth above propaganda. I want to be able to look up at the clouds and not be distracted by the ugly ground I'm standing on. I want to be free of hatred and full of love. I wish I was, I wish I could be.

Jannah Crescent

2011-12-22T06:32:00.001-05:00

Over the past several years, my family has been scattered around the world. It seems to happen intermittently - one sibling leaves to pursue some dream in another city or country, and another simultaneously comes back home. I think the last time we were all together was over five years ago.

So there's this small crescent on my street in Toronto that has 6 or 7 beautiful houses - it's actually more of a glorified semi-circle driveway. When my sister and I used to walk past it, we would talk about how awesome it would be if we bought those houses in the semi-circle and everyone moved back home. All the nieces and nephews and brothers and sisters and our parents, and we all got to see each other whenever we wanted. We'd talk about how we'd just all take turns cooking, and how we'd knock on each others doors when we felt like going someplace, and we'd all definitely take food from our parents' house.

It was a happy thought, and it still is. And then we would just sigh and my sister would say "maybe in Jannah, inshaAllah."

Over the years I've realized that all happiness is marred my some sadness. Even if for a moment or two everything seems just exactly right. It doesn't have to be some immense life-altering sadness, it could just be a loved one being too far away for you to share your happiness with her or him. It could be the distant memory of what you wish you could change from all those years ago. It could be anything.

This is not to be confused with pessimism or deep-seated regrets. Far from it. All I mean to say is that there is no pure happiness, sadness, anger, or other emotions. You aren't just one thing at any time. When you realize that this life is more emotionally complicated than you once imagined, it makes Jannah feel more real.

We are continuously journeying towards stations of happiness, but when we arrive, there are always memories of sadness or fear of future troubles. The thing is, when you arrive to the ultimate station of happiness, paradise, none of that exists anymore.

I just hope that someday we get to live in a Jannah Crescent.

It's December

2011-12-12T18:39:00.001-05:00

Regardless of where you are in the world, December is just plain old December. And it sucks the words right out of my mouth.

Paradise

2011-11-26T18:47:00.001-05:00

I love most things by this guy. He's awesome.

Winter Sea

2011-11-19T15:15:00.001-05:00

The winter sea is indifferently majestic;

it is unconcerned with the city’s arbitrary nighttime gunshots

or upcoming contentious elections.

All it wants is to discover the shore’s bumps and old plastic chairs left by humans because the air got too cold, and to flood adjacent highways when possible.

The sea doesn’t care that you are empty inside, or that you go to it for a calming solace because nothing else is consistently good or peaceful.

All it wants is to protect its sunken treasures from prying eyes and the sun’s attempt to evaporate its surface.

When the sea is dark and the night prevents inquisitive eyes from distinguishing its edge on the horizon from the black sky, your soul won’t feel any more enriched.

The café lighthouses that are on the brink of being engulfed in its waves will not bring you closer to home.

The sea just wants to be left alone, moving heavy contents in and out of its unburdened heart.

When it Rains in Egypt, it Pours

2011-11-15T14:58:00.001-05:00

And that's not a metaphor:

Flooded street beside our home in Alexandria

So when it rains here, it's hard to go out for leisure since many streets are in this shape - I guess no proper drainage system is in place considering it doesn't rain except in limited winter months.

Naturally since I can't go out as much, I've started noticing that the English channels on my TV keep playing the same things over and over: CSI (in all its forms), MasterChef Australia and lots of Sandra Bullock & horror movies (arguably the same thing).

Which sucks.

Climbing Mount Sinai

2011-11-10T17:01:00.000-05:00

If any of you remember this post, you'll know that one of the places I have always wanted to go was Mt. Sinai, the mountain that Moses (peace be upon him) is said to have climbed to talk to God. I've always loved the idea of going to a place that was so rich in history and meaning - but not just any history, my history. A history that I believed in, that was a part of my identity as a human being, and a believer in a line of prophets sent by God.

In early September I was fortunate enough to make that climb up Mt. Sinai with my husband. And it was absolutely the most physically challenging feat I have ever faced. The first half of the climb was tiring but not difficult. I can't say the same for the second half - every step I took up that mountain was exhausting, especially considering that we began our ascent in the middle of the night (3am).

But I regret nothing, it was shockingly beautiful to be climbing a trail in dead silence with a frighteningly large amount of stars staring at me from the heavens. And all we could see during the night were the stars and massive black shapes protruding from the ground - we were fully surrounded by mountains - Mt. Sinai being the highest of them.

Perhaps people who have lived all their lives around the majestic presence of mountains can't appreciate the kinds of heavy emotions attached to this experience. I had never before seen anything like this. As we were climbing and the sun was slowly rising, I began to see the peaks of all the mountains surrounding us. As far as the eye could see - nothing, absolutely nothing but mountains.

For a long time, I've felt that I haven't been learning anything new or going through new experiences. This was a new one. A stunning new one that left me speechless. All I could think of were the verses of the Qur'an where God says:

They say: "(Allah) Most Gracious has begotten a son!" Indeed ye have put forth a thing most monstrous! At it the skies are ready to burst, the earth to split asunder, and the mountains to fall down in utter ruin. That they should invoke a son for (Allah) Most Gracious. For it is not consonant with the majesty of (Allah) Most Gracious that He should beget a son. Not one of the beings in the heavens and the earth but must come to (Allah) Most Gracious as a servant (Surat Maryam 88-93).

Seeing those mountains reminded me of how Great God is - a Greatness that cannot be measured or quantified. But it's a greatness that inspires all creations to recognize and praise their Lord. Even mountains, which in the sunlight were simple very very large mounds of rocks and boulders...even mountains feel that connection to God. It makes me sad to think of times when I haven't felt that connection due to negligence, arrogance, or other negative qualities I possess. Perhaps it's a silly question, but aren't more feeling than a mound of rocks? I suppose it's something that I have to continuously grapple with.

I wish I could elaborate more on the intensity of the experience, I wish I could take you there...to that place where the shuffling of your feet and beating of your heart are the only sounds that matter. Where you realize that God is everything, and you are nothing.

The Racing Chocolate Thief

2011-10-27T02:21:00.000-04:00

I have this recurring dream where I'm in a big race, but the race starts off with a free all-you-can-eat chocolate chip waffle breakfast. Needless to say, I stay at the starting line for a while, even after the race starts. In fact, I stay there until I've finished every last waffle. Then, once I start the race, I keep stumbling upon these massive chocolate stashes located under people's mattresses (not sure why I had access to their mattresses). I suddenly notice that I'm carrying a very big sack, so I begin to fill it up with all the various chocolate bars I'm finding until it's completely full. I should mention that there were other sweets including soft cookies, gum, toffee, mints - I remember I didn't take the mints because I calculated that they were a waste of sack space.

And then, after all that, I still manage win the race. Chocolate dreams are the best. Especially when they are recurring.

But then I wake up and I'm seriously hungry.

avoiding living so as not to make a Life

2011-10-25T18:50:00.001-04:00

I've been avoiding living. And by living I mean, actually digging my heels into anything real in Egypt. I haven't enrolled in any classes, haven't made any friends, haven't said or done anything to make me accountable to anyone (besides my husband).

I didn't really do it on purpose. I just avoided doing real stuff and my conscious mind told me that it was because I was newly married - getting a hang of things like cooking, pleasing in-laws, etc. (yeah...right.) I kept using excuses until I finally stopped suppressing the real reason of avoidance. Well, I didn't want to stop - it all kind of just forcefully broke out of my subconscious mind.

I don't want to make a life here. I don't want any of this to be real. The more anchored I become here, the more it feels like the anchor will be too heavy to lift when I need to go home. For example, when I think about the slight possibility of making friends, my guard automatically goes up - because I already have friends at home.

And my guard is always up because people in Egypt are nosey in a major way. And everyone has an opinion. I understand that people who are close to you want to advise you, but it's often done in a way that's extremely pushy, and might I add, not only people who are close to you. Someone you just met might just tell you that you're living your life wrong. So yes, my guard is up in an exhausting way. Sometimes I just collapse under its weight and take a day or two to just be moody and not let anyone in.

And when I remember my parents and siblings, and all the babies that are related to me that I haven't seen in so long, my heart aches. And although my logical mind tells me that I should be where I am, how can it ever win an argument with my heart?

I did the thing I promised myself I would never do.

2011-10-20T17:37:00.000-04:00

I did the thing I promised myself I would never do. I promised myself that someday when I got married, I wouldn't neglect my old life - I would keep blogging, I would stay in touch with friends and family. I would work. Basically, I would just be myself, except with another person.

When my friends were getting married and falling off the face of the planet, I didn't understand. I thought it was about them being so in love that they just didn't think anything else was as important. At the time, I turned my nose up at them. To be honest, I thought they were overly-emotional ninnies.

But I think I now understand their predicaments. After you get married, things change - there's so much more complex emotional states that need to be analyzed and sorted through. There is a lot of personal adjustment and reflection that happens. And well, there are in-laws.

The person you're with will make you re-examine your own life and habits - compare and contrast them to your own, worry about new things you had never thought of before. And it's a lot to handle on a psychological level. So I get it now - I get why people struggle to maintain their old lives when they get married. It's emotionally taxing.

Granted, the fact that I'm in Egypt makes it significantly harder to maintain my old life (well, actually it makes it impossible). But I'm still a little bit sad. And that's not because some of the things I was and some of the values that I held are falling to the wayside. No, it's because it's happening without me noticing. But I should notice, and I should care. The last thing that I want to be is a woman who loses herself in marriage simply because she didn't take the time or effort to carve her own niche in the world.

I know it's not easy, but I'm trying.

2011-10-19T14:42:00.000-04:00

While I was lying in bed I came up with a really great blog post topic. I thought I should write it down or else I might forget, but I was too lazy to get out of bed. And then, I forgot. So this is what you get to read:

booga booga booga.

October

2011-10-04T02:27:00.001-04:00

I miss Autumn in Canada. October is the month all the trees used to really start looking like they were set ablaze with colour. I remember being so distracted by the trees that I would often almost bump into passers-by. To me, autumn is associated with putting a jacket on in the morning and holding a travel mug filled with hot tea while running towards the bus in half drizzly weather. I never understood why people called this kind of weather "miserable."

Autumn is what life is about - seeing that stage of immense beauty disintegrate into a cold kind of darkness. I always found those quiet moments of reflection surprising and sweet, like a chocolate bar you forgot you had in your bag. I suppose I'll have to find things that inspire me in Egypt now - although autumn here is just the same as summer, but slightly less hot. No changing colours, no putting on jackets, and no having coffee with friends on their lunch breaks.

I used to craved the culture of Egypt - knowing that it was rich and filled with family and unique flavours of life. And not that it isn't, but every day I realize more and more how much I miss my home, the familiar associations I have with Canadian nature and atmosphere. I didn't realize how connected I was to home until I left it. It isn't just people anymore, it's smells and tastes and sensory things that I just can't explain with words.

I miss bumping into friends on the street. I miss muffins - I guess Egyptians haven't come around to the idea of muffins just yet. I miss calling my sister whenever I want to complain about something (which was daily). I miss my mom.

I miss the place my heart grew up.

Chosen Family

2011-09-17T07:39:00.002-04:00

What she said. Exactly.

2011-08-26T15:30:00.000-04:00

I miss being able to escape to a private place when life became too overwhelming. Whether that meant going for an undisturbed walk, or holing myself up in my room and vegetating. I miss downtime. Downtime in Egypt exists, but it's collective, which means that you're in someone else's face while having your downtime. Apartments are generally too small, sidewalks to full, mouths too busy yapping to find a quiet moment of rest and contemplation, separate from all else.

I miss being alone.

I'm still alive

2011-08-20T11:14:00.000-04:00

These are the days leading up to my walima, and boy oh boy did I underestimate the amount of things that need to be done.

The problem is, life in Egypt is hard. Yup, that's the crux of the matter. Getting stuff done here is so much more difficult than in Canada. It requires knowing people as opposed to just showing up and buying something at a store. You have to know someone so that you don't get ripped off or get stuck with a defective product.

Also, when moving into an apartment, you literally need to buy everything except the walls and the floors of the place. Nothing comes included, even doorknobs. So, as you can imagine, there was shopping to be done every single day for the past month.

Also it's really hot. And Egyptian culture is confusing, and I'm trying hard to navigate it without offending people in a major way. Pretty sure I've done that several times thus far. Oh well.

Also, my English is suffering in major way. Writing used to come easily to me, but now I'm searching for words that are commonplace. For example, I was about to type "searching" like this: "surching." And that's not an exaggeration (which I just spelled with 2 Xs instead of 2 Gs).

Life in Egypt is hard.

But Alhamdulillah, this is what was meant for me - so what state is appropriate except that of thankfulness, right?

(but it's hot)

Til we Meet Again

2011-08-06T10:24:00.001-04:00

I'm in Egypt right now...Ramadan in Egypt is different. When it first started, I longed to be back in Canada with familiar faces, getting Ramadan Mubarak emails and calls. It didn’t feel the same to be in a different country – the emotions that I had always associated with the beginning of Ramadan weren’t there.

It has gotten better in the past few days – I’m noticing interesting things about Egyptian culture and how it melts into the Islamic tradition. On the second day of Ramadan we went out slightly before maghrib to go to an iftar at my in-laws’ place, and the streets were like that of a ghost town. The shops were closed, there were barely any people walking about – the only people on the streets were young men wielding bags of pre-packaged dates to give to drivers of passing cars to break their fasts with. It was quite the sight to see men throwing little bags of dates into the open windows of cars.

Egyptians only bake certain kinds of bread in Ramadan. And only eat certain kinds of foods – the week before Ramadan, grocery stores sell massive amounts of oil (go figure) and Ramadan-specific foods including dates, Amar Al-Deen (dried apricot sheets, sort of like fruit roll-ups).

Praying taraweeh here is different, too. I prayed in the largest congregation I’ve ever prayed in at a famous mosque in Alexandria. The streets all around the mosque were blocked off and we prayed on the asphalt in rows upon rows of worshippers. And the imams…I can’t quite describe how it feels to be praying behind imams who sound like some of my favourite reciters. Imagine praying behind Abu Bakr Al-Shatri, or Muhammad Jibreel or AbdelBaset Abdel Samad.

To be honest I felt lonely when Ramadan first started. I missed my community, I missed the quirks of the multicultural mishmash that is Ramadan in Toronto. And I still miss it, but the thing that always brings me back is listening to the same Qur’an, the same du’aa, the same sweet words of celebration that surround this month. It reminds me that there is one thing in my life that is consistent no matter where I am. It makes me feel like maybe I’m not too far from home.

pack it up

2011-07-14T10:49:00.000-04:00

I'm currently in the process of packing up most of my belongings to move to another country for a while. I leave in just under 3 days inshaAllah.

Packing for a long trip with no definite return date means that I have to go through nearly everything I own, and makes me re-examine the purpose of a lot of things that I'm leaving behind. Limited suitcase space gives rise to a lot of personal judgement/decisions about what true needs are vs. the frills. We go through our lives accumulating items that have either intrinsic or sentimental value - but at the end most of it means nothing.

Packing up my life is hard. I have a lot of stuff to go through, but that's not why it's hard. Rather, I now really have to deal with the fact that I'm leaving the home tree that has always had stable roots, for a life of a seed trying to burrow itself into the ground to grow and make its own roots. What if I get tired and a slight wind blows me away?

2011-07-05T12:26:00.000-04:00

I just discovered this series of songs. It's very entertaining to me, and surprisingly halalish.

Punching Stuff

2011-07-02T02:15:00.000-04:00

Do you ever have days when you're so frustrated that you feel like punching babies and old people in the face? And it has to specifically be babies and old people, or it's not going to work.

Disarray

2011-07-01T02:48:00.000-04:00

This is the current state of my desk.

Just thought you should know.

More meaningful episodes of disarray to follow.

Lists

2011-06-27T12:17:00.000-04:00

I'm making lists in the hopes that a) I won't forget anything important, and b) it'll ease the sadness of departure by making things technical, straight forward, unemotional.

Growing up is Hard

2011-06-19T16:59:00.000-04:00

The thing I wanted the most when I was younger was to grow up so I could be independent, make my own choices, move out of my parents' home. I craved these things - I craved the thought of the hypothetically brilliant process of self-discovery I would go through when I was "older." I can't remember how many times I've thought about how great it would be to leave home, or mutter under my breath "I can't wait to move out" or some angrier variation of that. I thought everything would be easier, better if I didn't have to put up with the quirks of my family anymore.

But boy was I wrong (as I'm discovering that I was/am basically wrong about everything I thought was true).

I'm currently in the mental gear of finally moving away from the people I've lived with for the past 25 years. And it's not all it's cracked up to be.

Now I'm dreading this stage of life where I'll have to make real decisions. Decisions that involve thinking about uprooting myself and moving to a new country. Decisions involving finances - and not just "can I afford these shoes" decisions; now it's more like "if I don't get this job what will I do for rent" decisions. Decisions about starting a family. These are stressful things to think about.

My ever-coveted "independence" is naturally also hard on the heart.

Growing up sucks.

The year I spent with a beard.

2011-06-09T00:32:00.000-04:00

One year ago today, I first met my husband.

I remember not wanting to meet him - I had pretty much sworn off men at the time. I actually only went ahead with it because I didn't want to offend my really jovial and sincere uncle who wanted to introduce us. (Later I would find out that he wasn't too excited about meeting me, either!) But I sucked up my pride and I went - I remember thinking exactly this: at least this will be another amusing marriage story to tell. In fact, this story has roots in my first meeting with him ;)

But, well, Allah is the Best of Planners. I couldn't have planned something so efficiently and effortlessly as He did, subhanAllah.

Anyway, my husband later told me that he was a bit intimidated by me when we first met. I'm the one who started talking to him first, and asking him hard questions. He didn't expect me to be so aggressive. But I suppose my charm got to him eventually =)

I left that meeting feeling rather content. I really don't believe in this "love at first sight" business, but I knew pretty quickly in my heart of hearts that this man had the potential to be the one.

And he was. And it wasn't complicated.

There's something about being married that contributes to a kind of serenity and peace of mind that I have never experienced before. It's not quite about being in love, although that is a part of it. It's deeper than that. It's a spiritual ease - knowing that a part of your life now has much deeper roots than it used to.

Now I understand this verse in the Qur'an: "Among His proofs is that He created for you spouses from among yourselves, in order to have tranquility and contentment with each other, and He placed in your hearts love and care towards your spouses. In this, there are sufficient proofs for people who think" (30:21).

It really is a sign of the Mercy of Allah, Who attributes great love to Himself - He is called Al-Wadud (The Loving). It's rather bewitching to think that God, the source of all love, deemed me to be worthy of having this love in my life. I remember thinking after I got married, what in the world could I possibly have done to deserve this kind of happiness? The thing is, I did nothing to deserve it - it's all by the hands of an incomprehensibly Merciful Lord.

Allah blessed me with one year in my husband's company, Alhamdulillah. Here's hoping to many more happy years and the strengthening of our now intertwined roots.

Landslide

2011-06-03T00:00:00.001-04:00

Self-Explanatory

Nothing is Random

2011-06-02T01:16:00.001-04:00

About a year ago, my brother was suddenly admitted into the ICU for what had initially seemed to be a regular bout of the flu. As it turns out, his symptoms were caused by something much more serious. His body had formed massive blood clots in his extremities, and any dislodged blood clots traveling into his heart or lungs could have been an easy cause for sudden death. But it wasn't his time to die yet, so after a lengthy and stressful few weeks in the hospital, he was home recovering.

It struck me at the time because he was a healthy, active, and young. And none of those adjectives are usually attached to what our mental image is of someone facing death. But there we were, living out of hospital waiting rooms and neglecting everything external to that reality.

But nothing is random.

There are literally millions of things that could go wrong with your body at any given moment. If one hormone is imbalanced, if one organ isn't functioning just right, if one body part gets jostled too hard...anything could happen. You could die today. You could die reading this. I could die writing this.

I always thought that I knew that nothing was random, that everything has a purpose in the grand scheme of our existence. But I didn't until now. Sure, I thought about life's big events as having purpose, but I never gave much thought to the small, seemingly meaningless words, actions, events that were all lining up a certain way so that an end could be achieved. An end that you may not have ever thought plausible.

No, nothing is random. My sister had to give birth at a specific time last year so that I could go visit her with my mom, so that I could just happen to meet my (now) husband on that same trip. If any part of that story had changed, perhaps the outcome would have changed as well.

And so I've been thinking about all the people I know, the places I've been, the experiences I've had (and am having). So many conversations, so many feelings, frustrations, facial expressions, moments of existence. Many of them seem random, but as I'm sure you've gathered by now: nothing is random.

And you're not alive randomly either. Your blood isn't successfully pulsing through your veins because of a random sequence of numbers and events. You are not random. I am not random. But we spend our lives as if we are. As if the things we say or do have no meaning.

You're not random. If you're alive right now, there is a reason for it. All the things that could have gone wrong with your body internally or externally...didn't. You're still here. You still have some purpose to fulfill.

Make it worthwhile.

2011-05-18T21:30:00.000-04:00

The longer I am away from working in my field, the less qualified and talented I feel. I'm in my 5th month of looking for a full-time job, and it's draining every bit of motivation and drive that I have.

But I guess there's always a silver lining. At least now I know what marshmallows in hot chocolate taste like, and what happens in Vampire Diaries.

Joy.

2011-05-11T23:51:00.000-04:00

My greatest fear is to live a life of insignificance. I've thrown myself into so many projects, organizations, events; all in hopes of finding what I'm meant to do, who I'm meant to be.

But I still don't know, and not knowing comes with a kind of fragility and fear that I never wanted to feel. I've been so afraid to stop distracting myself with meaningless things in order to welcome the experience of discovery. Now I don't have a choice.

first white

2011-05-04T19:58:00.002-04:00

When I was younger I thought when I was older
I wouldn’t want to be younger. But I do,
only because I feel it will free me from the pressure
to be spectacular and brilliant
and do something of meaning with my life.

I remember finding my first white in a public washroom 2 years ago
while glancing at myself over the sink. It was a quick glimmer in the light
that made me look closer. And there it was,
above my forehead, staring at me blankly as if to say
what did you expect?

happy birthday to...

2011-04-25T23:49:00.000-04:00

My blog! Randomly Placed turned 6 today. I've seen it through some tough times - its innocent birth and rebellious adolescence. I think RP is turning into quite the mature little thing, and it has been both strange and interesting to watch this brain child of mine develop.

Excuse me while I go eat some cake to celebrate...mostly just because I want to eat cake.

Female Leadership: The Queen of Sheba

2011-04-18T01:05:00.001-04:00

I have spent much time ruminating about the intricacies and challenges that come along with being a leader and being female. By "leader" I do not necessarily mean the leader of an entire nation. Rather, I mean it in more of a subjective manner - a position of influence and authority regardless of how small the scope.

For a large period of my life I was lead to believe that women are inherently inadequate leaders. Perhaps it was the idea that women were overly emotional and had fewer "logical thinking" skills as men. Sometimes these things were actually said out loud (i.e. "women are ____" and you could fill in the blank with every possible generalization to be made about women). And sometimes it wasn't said, but implied through people's actions.

Needless to say, I have always had a problem with these ideas. Being in various positions of leadership over the years (and finding that - by the will of God - I was able to contribute positively in those positions), I couldn't for the life of me understand how some people could sincerely believe that females had very little to offer in this realm.

I still struggle with the barriers that are put up to discourage females from active participation in (real, influential) decision-making. I see in the eyes of females so much passion and willingness to contribute to the betterment of our community, and yet their skills are taken for granted. And it's only a matter of time until those females become tired of the dismissive attitudes they're exposed to in their own communities and move on to other places that will accept and value their abilities. That saddens me.

I was listening to Surat An-Naml, and the story of the Queen of Sheba caught my attention. I've been thinking about these verses quite a bit:

(The queen) said: "Ye chiefs! here is delivered to me - a letter worthy of respect. "It is from Solomon, and is (as follows): 'In the name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful: "'Be ye not arrogant against me, but come to me in submission (to the true Religion).'" She said: "Ye chiefs! advise me in (this) my affair: no affair have I decided except in your presence." They said: "We are endued with strength, and given to vehement war: but the command is with thee; so consider what thou wilt command." She said: "Kings, when they enter a country, despoil it, and make the noblest of its people its meanest thus do they behave. But I am going to send him a present, and (wait) to see with what (answer) return (my) ambassadors." (Surat An-Naml: 29-35)

I love these verses - they teach me so much about the difference between male and female leadership and the value that a female leader could potentially have. The Queen of Sheba asks her advisors for their opinion regarding Prophet Sulaiman's letter that calls them to worship the One God. Her advisors say they are strong and willing to fight. She disagrees with their take on the situation saying "Kings, when they enter a country, despoil it, and make the noblest of its people its meanest thus do they behave..." She eventually decides to handle matters with Prophet Sulaiman very differently than the advised violence of war.

What I take from this is simple: the story illustrates the potentially different leadership qualities that males vs. females possess. That is, the Queen of Sheba was concerned for the well-being of her people and land such that she did not want to instigate unnecessary war. How novel that idea is! She demonstrated a level of wisdom and foresight that would be admirable in any leader - male or female. She brought to the table a different skill-set that set her apart from other leaders, and that made her nation strong and meaningful enough to be mentioned in the Qur'an as a parable for us, the readers.

I do believe that men and women are inherently different beings, each with their strengths and weaknesses. I also believe that there is a reason that God created two different beings - and that is, that they compliment one another. Perhaps leadership styles are different amongst men and women, but those differences are precisely what make a strong community! Gathering both men and women to decide on the direction the community needs to head in will yield a balanced and positive outcome. When women are pigeonholed and only "allowed" to participate in ways that are deemed adequately "feminine"...well, everyone loses, and our community becomes imbalanced and unable to progress properly.

Students are Lazy

2011-04-16T18:31:00.000-04:00

When I was in university (for a total of 6 years), I never missed a test or exam & I only ever handed in 2 assignments late. The 1st paper because the due date was Eid day, so I got my prof to delay the due date by a day. And the second was because the late penalty was only 1% per day (and if you ask me, any prof who makes the late penalty 1% is just asking for late papers - it felt wrong to hand it in on time).

My point is, when I observe the university students around me, I find that they're handing in papers late, asking for extensions, missing exams and forging doctor's notes. As if they can't gather the threads of their lives together long enough to do anything on time. And I just don't get it. Sure, it was always a struggle to do things on time, sure I'd pull painful all-nighters and perhaps neglect other things in life that weren't school related...but it got the job done, and it got it done on time.

Why is everyone so lazy these days? If something causes hardship, apparently it's not worth doing anymore - or it's worth faking an illness.

(I wish I was rocking back and forth in a rocking chair as I said this:)
YOUNG PEOPLE THESE DAYS!

Getting what you Deserve

2011-04-09T01:04:00.001-04:00

We live between two very precarious and seemingly contradictory frameworks of self-identification: one being a type of self-loathing taught to us by the capitalist market that seeks to sell us any and all types of products to enhance our beauty, intelligence, stamina, etc. The other being a sense of entitlement whereby our excessive accumulation of things does not bother us because we truly believe we deserve all possible good in the world. It's quite the conundrum; on the one hand, we hate ourselves to the point where we buy absolutely ridiculous things for exorbitant prices hoping they'll makes us love ourselves. On the other hand, we believe we are at our very essence worthy of all of these things and more.

When we encounter difficult situations in any sense, our initial reaction is to say or think: why me? What did I do to deserve something so hard, difficult, and painful in my life? Perhaps we don't often think about the essential problem from which these thoughts spring - i.e. that we are somehow entitled to a life free of pain, or that we deserve a certain level of happiness.

The fact is, we deserve absolutely nothing. There is no "life-for-dummies" manual that dictates that good things will or should come to us regardless. There is no guarantee that anything you have now will last til tomorrow. I think one of the reasons we're so unhappy as a nation is that we believe we do deserve things, when we really don't. That isn't to say that we are all horrible people who have done things that put us in the "undeserving" category. No, but there is only one category - undeserving.

One of God's Names is "Al-Wahhab" which means The Bestower of Gifts. He gives us gifts for different reasons. He may give a gift solely out of love for His slave. Or He may see that His slave is far from Him, so He gives her a beautiful gift to bring her back to thanking Him.

Allah is also "Al-Razzaq" meaning the Sustainer and The One Who gives Rizq (sustenance). But there's a difference between this name and Al-Wahhab. Allah's Name "Al-Razzaq" insinuates that a person puts forth a certain effort to sustain him/herself, and then God allows that person's sustenance to be placed upon him/her. Whereas Al-Wahhab is a Name that indicates that God is the giver of gifts without toil, simply out of a love of His slaves.

If you think about some of the amazing and unexpected things that have happened in your life that you don't believe you really deserve, like having a beautiful healthy baby, or suddenly being able to go for Hajj when you thought you couldn't afford it, or whatever it is; those things came from Al-Wahhab. The Bestower of Gifts, not because you did something to deserve it. Rather, He is fulfilling His Name and Attribute through giving these things to you.

For me, it was my husband. For the life of me, I didn't understand why I deserved to be married to someone that was so perfect for me. Just months before I'd met him, I had totally given up on marriage and no longer wanted to pursue anything related to it. But Al-Wahhab was adamant about bringing him into my life because He knew it was a gift that I would be so grateful for. Alhamdulillah.

The point is, we need to understand that in essence, we do not inherently deserve anything. God says in the Qur'an: "If Allah were to punish men according to what they deserve. He would not leave on the back of the (earth) a single living creature" (Qur'an 35:45). Clearly, if God were to give us what we truly deserved, we would no longer be here.

In order to achieve true happiness and thankfulness that is sincere and lasting, we need to come to terms with our undeserving nature. We need to know that when something good happens to us, it's not because we have self-sufficient talents that have brought the event about or true "entitlement" to that good thing. Rather, it's because Allah chose this for us for reasons that we may not understand; He is the one who empowered us to achieve any of the good things in our lives.

When we accept that all good comes from God and reject the conceited notion that we have raised ourselves up through self-sufficiency, we can begin to embark on the journey of becoming truly thankful for every day of life.

The First Shoots of Spring...

2011-04-05T00:49:00.003-04:00

I stumbled upon this happy sight today while out on a walk with a friend of mine:

It reminds me of love.

Dhulm: putting stuff where it really shouldn't go.

2011-03-31T01:45:00.001-04:00

The Arabic word "dhulm" is usually translated as "injustice/oppression." Linguistically, dhulm means to place something where it doesn't belong...

In times of reflection, I often marvel at the hurtful situations I sometimes used to find myself in. It's interesting how when we are young, we go through life doing and saying things without realizing it will all have an impact on us later in life. It will impact our self-esteem, our psychology, the way we maintain relationships, etc. The things we do are not singular items that are lost in space and time. They actually build up and eventually make us into who we are. Upon thinking about this for some time, I've come to the conclusion that we cause ourselves so much pain by committing dhulm upon our own souls.

For example, in the past I've gotten my heart broken (like the majority of people alive). In reference to the concept of dhulm, I now know it's because I committed injustice towards my own heart by putting it where it did not belong - giving it to people who didn't deserve it/weren't sanctioned to have it. I think this is quite a serious form of dhulm considering the status of the heart as the centre of life - the piece of flesh that houses a spiritual essence that cannot quite be captured in human words.

It's a simple concept, but I've been analyzing my life and so many things can be explained so succinctly and adequately by using the definition of dhulm. You may not think it's mind-blowing, but the reason I've adopted this element into my framework of thinking is because I used to try to find excuses as to why things in my life weren't turning out the way that I wanted them to. I would rack my brain and sit alone for hours just trying to figure out how to fix different problems.

And now I see, I was being messy and negligent. Like I still do with the things in my room, I was just putting stuff where it didn't belong. But instead of physical items, they were emotions and thoughts and beliefs. I was putting my trust in people and things and myself, whereas I should've put my trust in God. That's major dhulm towards myself.

Notice how in the Qur'an, God often refers to some people as having wronged their own souls, even though He is referring to their disbelief in Him. So why are they being referred to as committing dhulm or oppression against themselves? Well, they took the natural desire to believe in a higher being (our fitrah) and buried it in some deep hole within themselves where it definitely didn't belong. And the results of that are devastating.

We don't often think of the concept of "oppression" being towards oneself. Rather, we externalize the blame and let ourselves think we are victims of others' dhulm towards us. But chances are, just as we lose track of our possessions, we do the same to various components of our souls. And that is root of disappointment and I believe, the root of so many evils we find in our lives.

So just put your stuff where it belongs.

Control of the "Feminine"

2011-03-24T22:08:00.000-04:00

I'm not shy to say that I ascribe to a mainstream Islamic framework. I try my best to follow the Qur'an and Sunnah and not mix my beliefs with doubtful elements or unreliable sources. I guess you could call me an "orthodox Muslim." Within this framework, I understand that Islam is widely applicable to different societal contexts - and its rules (although they remain unchanged), apply differently in each cultural context. So within my "orthodox" views, there is still room for flexibility and acceptance of other opinions.

Don't worry, this blog post isn't about my aqeedah, rather I needed to write that preamble so that the rest of this entry can be put into context and read through that lens.

I have a problem with the way that some of our (respected) scholars interpret the "feminine" as a concept, and how they extrapolate those understandings into their discourses. I say they are respected, because that is what they are. In most matters, I can look up to their opinions and interpretations and feel confident that I can take most of what they say at face value.

But for some reason, when it comes to women, there is a deep chasm of misunderstanding and misrepresentation that happens in some Islamic literature. I was recently reading a book on the Fiqh of Marriage and I was shocked to read some of the hurtful and unsupported generalizations that the author put forth. He cited a quote by a respected scholar which literally equated a wife with a slave/servant/captive in order to prove that it is obligatory on a wife to serve her husband just as it is obligatory for a slave/servant to serve his master.

Granted, the author was quoting a scholar from many generations ago - and we know that they lived in a different era where such analyses were acceptable and normal. It is disheartening though, to see someone include something like this in a book written just a few years ago. This isn't the only example of broad generalizations made by scholars and authors alike. Women are constantly referred to as one homogeneous group which has characteristics like jealousy, overzealous emotion, and a lack of logical thinking power ascribed to it.

I have a problem with this. And this is where you need to refer back to my first paragraph. I am not a "progressive" Muslim who seeks to abandon what the Qur'an and Sunnah and our respected scholars have established. Nor am I an apologist who tries to make difficult issues look rosy and lovely. But still, I have a problem with the way that many of our communities receive and think about women. The way in which communities interact with their female population is not to be blamed on the community itself. Rather, there is an overarching system that perpetuates certain beliefs and ideologies.

Although our communities have changed drastically over the past centuries, we are still quoting dated sources when it comes to social contexts. As I mentioned before, the rulings and principles are the same, but how the topic is approached needs to change.

If I'm seeking knowledge about the fiqh surrounding marital issues, and I feel saddened after reading about how my entire sex is emotional, jealous, and lacks ability to make logical decisions, then there's something wrong. I consider myself to be a practicing Muslim woman who assesses and makes her life decisions in reference to Islam. So where does it leave me when I can't turn to these sources to obtain the knowledge that I need and crave?

It's unfortunate and dangerous - I might know another source where I can go to get information. I might have the resources available to me. But for women who don't have those options or are unaware of alternatives, something like this can be a major repellent from adhering to Islamic principles. Islamic principles are beautiful and have an immense amount of wisdom behind them, but if you present them harshly, that beauty is greatly diminished.

I hope that each woman reading these things can come to realize that a man's unsubstantiated words are not superior to her own thoughts and interpretations of her life and her role in society.

Roots

2011-03-20T23:14:00.004-04:00

I was at the library last year and I picked up a book called "Women, Food, and God." I will admit that I judge books by their covers, and it seemed like an interesting read. I thought the book was quite intuitive and one of the author's points was that we should look at our relationship with food as a microcosm of our relationships with our emotions, loved ones, and life events.

Her argument was that our eating habits (especially for people who over eat) are deeply related to our emotions, family roots, and even our spirituality. For example, someone who grew up in a poor household or one with many family members may have experienced scarcity when it comes to food. If they didn't quickly get their piece, they wouldn't get anything. The emotions around scarcity could push someone to over eat later in life - even if those thoughts or emotions are subconscious.

Although this idea isn't that new, I found it pretty fascinating, and started making connections in my own life - not necessarily related to eating, but just related to other personality traits or characteristics.

It's one thing to think about your quirks and personality traits coming from nowhere, or somewhere, or something in a random, disorganized way. But if you stop and think about how you were raised as a child, and consequently how that upbringing deeply affects your current life...it's pretty cool. I don't know why I'm just discovering this now.

Actually I do know why. I was having a conversation with a friend, and she was telling me that it's easy for some people to engage in argumentation and discussion, while others become easily upset and simply remove themselves from a situation that is uncomfortable. She said that she's noticed that people who have larger families and who have had to share a room with a sibling at some point will have an easier time compromising and adjusting to others' personalities, even if they find it challenging to do so. Those who were able to remove themselves from their families whenever they faced a dispute (i.e. had their own room), may have a more difficult time accepting others' arguments now.

I don't quite know if this is true, and it's definitely not a generalization, but it did make me stop and think about all my personality traits that I kinda thought came from nowhere. And now I know they came from somewhere. Trying to put together this puzzle is pretty awesome.

So maybe you got your mom's nose...what else did you get? JIGSAW TIME.

balance

2011-03-13T20:06:00.000-04:00

Have you ever just sat there and thought about the sun? Everything that's living benefits from it's presence - plants, animals, YOU (especially those of us who are vitamin D deficient, we get it). But having too much of it can be extremely damaging to your health.

Just think about it for a moment; how balanced it all is - not just the sun, but a lot of other elements in our lives as well. Think about how God entrusts you to create a balanced life out of the natural tools and perfect resources that He's given you.

It's mind-blowing.

Listless

2011-03-10T23:28:00.000-05:00

I don't understand where my home is anymore.

Delirious Story Writing

2011-03-08T18:45:00.004-05:00

Once upon a time there was a girl named Hankousha and a boy named Muzz. The young children were neighbours in a small village, and they used to play hide and seek in the forest beside their houses. Hankousha was very white - so white that when the sun was shining brightly, it would be hard to see her because she would blend into the sunlight. Muzz, on the other hand, was a hairy, gruff child who was a little bit scared of wolves, fires, and some kinds of birds.

Although the children were very different from one another, they still enjoyed one another's company every day after school. They would run home holding hands. Whenever they had to cross the street, Muzz would tighten his grip on Hankousha's hand and quickly run across to keep her safe. Even though he didn't say it, Hankousha had known Muzz was in love with her since they first met when Muzz's family decided to move to their town.

One day Muzz was sick and Hankousha didn't see him at school. As she hurried back from school to check on him, she ran into a duck covered in gold necklaces. She was shocked to see such a sight in the middle of a crowded street. So she stopped and asked the heavily adorned duck "ducky, why are you covered in gold?" The duck began to speak in a clear British accent saying "you see my child, ancient Egyptians used to worship me during the night..." she quickly interrupted "err, why just during the night?" The duck rolled its eyes and said "silly child, because they worshiped the sun during the day, so once the sun went down, they needed something to occupy their time." Hankousha stared at the duck incredulously. She began to doubt her sanity, so quickly continued on her path home.

Once she was home, she threw her school books on the table and told her mom she was going to visit Muzz. Her mother, who happened to be a very large fish who could magically walk and breathe regular oxygen turned to her and said: "okay honey, but don't be late because we're having your favourite food for dinner: chocolate-stuffed spinach!" Hankousha was happy that she would be eating the best food on the planet, but decided to visit Muzz first.

She skipped to his house in a pink and yellow dress, singing Mariah Carey songs out loud. She was out of breath by the time she arrived to his house and knocked on his door three times. She waited and waited but nobody answered the door. Now she started getting worried. She ran to the back of the house to see if they had left a window or door open. Luckily, she found a tiny opening in the window, so she transformed into a snake and slithered into the house. Once she was inside, she turned back into her pretty girly self and started looking around. The house smelled lovely, as though Muzz's mom had just baked cupcakes. But all the lights were off and it seemed like nobody was home. She ran upstairs only to find that all the beds were empty. She started to panic...what could've happened to Muzz? Where was he? Was he so sick that they had to take him to the hospital?

She ran down the stairs so she could race out the door to keep searching for him. Before she opened the door to leave, she noticed a note sitting on top of the dining room table. It had her name on it! She took it into her hands and opened it slowly, afraid of what she might find inside. As she unfolded it, she began to sweat and feel nervous...to her surprise, the note only had one word in it: "BOO." For a second, Hankousha was very confused. Then she felt two hands grab her violently by her shoulders, the fingers digging into her skin. She twisted to get away and a scream was right about to exit her throat when she saw the hands that were on her. They were a bit dark, hairy, and she recognized those nails that needed to be clipped. She turned around gasping, it was Muzz.

He grinned and said "boo."

why I can't write a book

2011-03-06T01:46:00.000-05:00

My friend tells me that I should write a book. I suppose I could write a book(let). I tried to write a book in 2008 and I got writer's block after approx 700 words & I subsequently quit. I think I've gotten used to this blogging style of writing - i.e. short snippets of thoughts, random pictures, descriptions of moments or emotions...but no consistent thread to keep it all together.

I'm missing that brain thread. It's all ripped up in my mind and I'm not sure if I can make it proper again.

Anyway, what would I write about?

2011-03-04T02:42:00.001-05:00

Every human being needs to feel useful.

To be loved is great, to be sought after...sure. To feel intelligent or worthy, okay. But the crux of it all is usefulness. Sure, you can be the smartest person on earth; but if you can't put that intelligence to work or do something amazing with it, then what's the point of even having it?

Usefulness is a base human need. Forget Maslow's hierarchy of needs or whatever other theories are emerging in your thoughts right now. A person needs to be useful. And right now, I feel useless. And that's on of the most destructive and suffocating states of mind a person can be in.

I'm choking on my uselessness.

2011-03-01T21:45:00.000-05:00

How is it that I have absolutely nothing to say?

Baking up a Storm. A Fat, Fat Storm.

2011-02-17T23:28:00.001-05:00

Inspired by Bake it in a Cake (basically the best website I have ever seen), I decided to try baking a Reese peanut butter cup into a chocolate cupcake:

It was amazing. That is all.

♥

2011-02-13T20:48:00.000-05:00

The Latest Escapades of Randomly Placed

2011-02-13T13:18:00.000-05:00

I was contacted to be a subject in a research project by a professor who happened upon my blog by searching something on Google. If that isn't random, I don't know what it. I love it!

Revolution & Egyptian Identity

2011-02-11T14:43:00.001-05:00

For most of my life, I rarely attributed my characteristics or personality traits to being Egyptian. I had assumed my sense of humour was of my own making. I assumed my values, dreams, hopes all came from an amalgamation of being a Muslim and a Canadian. I didn't factor in my Egyptian roots.

Over the past two years or so, I've started becoming more aware of how my family's dynamics and my own personal traits have real roots in the Egyptian culture. When I first began to realize this, it was an interesting and almost frightening awakening. How could I have gone through my entire life nearly rejecting a part of my identity - not because I specifically disliked it, but because I truly believed it had no bearing on my life? It began to seem nonsensical to me. Perhaps it was because in the past 2-3 years I've made many more trips to Egypt than I ever had before. I made 3 separate trips to Egypt in 2010 alone.

Similarly, I still had this internal conflict with myself - was it Islamically right for me to be "proud" of my heritage. I always rejected this notion of national pride because I didn't believe that any one race was better than the other - and on that specific point, I know I am right. But the way it translated into my life wasn't right; I suppressed that identity, thinking it was more important to just be known as Muslim than anything else. And I still believe that is mostly right. But not all right.

I didn't give myself the chance to celebrate the unique identity that came along with such a rich culture. I think I've been missing out a lot.

This became even more clear to me after witnessing the bravery, confidence, unity, resourcefulness, and steadfastness of the Egyptian people over the past 18 days. I am both proud and incredibly humbled to claim Egyptian roots and heritage. I can only aspire to hope for the characteristics of both strength and the culture of humility that I have seen in the Egyptian people.

For the first time in 25 years, I can say with a clear sense of purpose and sincerity: I'm proud to be Egyptian.

2011-02-06T22:24:00.000-05:00

Today I stabbed my gum while eating a sharp chip.

Revolt

2011-01-31T01:36:00.000-05:00

January 29 Toronto demonstration

The revolution currently taking place in Egypt has become a personal revolution for us all. Whether or not we have family or connections in Egypt is no longer an indication of our attachment to the situation in the country. We are them, they are us. Their struggle is a universal one.

The results of this revolution will be the ultimate litmus test for the true potential that lies in that area of the world (amongst others). I find myself glued to AlJazeerah's live coverage of the situation & checking real-time Twitter updates from people in Cairo and Alex. Admittedly, the first time I've felt that Twitter had any use.

I deeply admire the courage it has taken for people to face the force that has been silencing them for over 30 years. But my ultimate admiration is for those who are forming neighbourhood watches - guarding their streets and homes from looters throughout the day, only armed with sticks and knives (against guns of thieves). The stories and first-hand accounts I've heard are almost unbelievable. This is where the men are separated from the boys. Those are men in the true sense of the word.

Every day I call my loved ones to make sure that nothing happened to them through the night. It's a nauseating feeling to go to sleep not knowing if you'll be able to hear their voices again in the morning.

All possible prayers are with them. God is the only protector.

2011-01-28T20:45:00.000-05:00

The sounds of revolution are only titillating to those who do not have loved ones in the crowds.

living the hard life

2011-01-25T17:48:00.000-05:00

Over the past several years, I have seen some of the enormously hurtful effects of the West's "terrorist" witch-hunt. They've taken people from our cities, our communities - people to whom we would've never given a second glance to had not the authorities decided to effectively crucify them in the public eye.

I remember a conversation between my older sister and the wife of a man who was being held on Canada's security certificate (dictating that Canada can detain and deport foreign nationals if they have "just cause" - which is naturally a very subjective concept). My sister asked her how do you manage to raise your kids as a single-mom, actively advocate on your husband's behalf and live a normal life all at once? And she gave the simplest of answers which, to this day, astonishes me with its heavy meaning and brevity: who ever said that life is supposed to be easy?

To this day I can't fathom how she managed (and still manages) to stay afloat with her family and still be one of most genuinely kind people I have ever met. But the answer to my puzzled thoughts lies in that one statement: "who ever said that life is supposed to be easy?"

I was thinking about this because lately I have been so frustrated with my less-than-fruitful job hunt, and I see others who are in similar situations about jobs, school, family situations, etc. And we whine and moan about how difficult our lives are, and we wonder why God is putting this test on our shoulders. And we walk through life with a feeling of entitlement, as though we somehow deserve good things to materialize for us without strife or struggle.

But no one ever promised us an easy life. And she understood that.

She understood that she has to take what she was given and do the best she can with it, not expecting that things will become easier or better - but instead expecting a reward from the Creator who knows her every moment of struggle and pain, and who knows the amount of effort she put in to still believe and not raise her hands and just say I give up on You, I give up on myself.

That's a kind of strength I can only dream of achieving.

Life is meant to be riddled with tests and at least some physical or emotional discomfort. You will lose things and people that you love. That's simply a testament to what God says about the impermanent nature of our lives. We all have different struggles and pains - and God gives us the trials He knows we can bear and overcome. But still, the path to overcoming trials is not strewn with rose petals; it is engrossed by thorns that will snag your clothes unless you step carefully, mindfully towards the end goal of Relief in the hereafter.

Relief sounds wonderful.

Re: Gossip

2011-01-16T21:27:00.000-05:00

When I really think about it, I don't understand gossip.

I mean, I understand the concept, and I can even understand the allure to engage in meaningless gossip at some points in life. By nature we are curious beings, so sometimes we have to consciously fight against our urges to pry open someone else's private life.

I know that we've all engaged in gossip at some point, and still do. But for the girls and guys out there who are incessantly chatting about other people: I don't get you. An aside: I say GUYS too because people may be under the impression that only girls gossip, and that can't be farther from the truth. There are a fair share of men who can't keep their traps shut about stuff that doesn't relate to them.

I've met a handful of people who are bona fide gossips through and through. They can barely take two breaths without saying something about someone between them. I never truly understood these characters until I once heard that gossip about myself existed. Frankly, I'm a boring person. As far as I'm concerned I haven't done anything scandalous or even interesting enough to warrant people taking the time to discuss my life. So if they're actually talking about the banality of my existence...well damn, they must be really bored or something!

And gossips don't just spread drama, they also create drama that didn't even exist before they started talking about it.

Religiously speaking, backbiting is one of the larger sins that we very unwittingly fall into, and it's incredibly damaging to ourselves and those around us. See this somewhat creepy YouTube video for a visual representation of the issue.

Related to this issue is that of being unable to hold your tongue when it comes to personal issues within your own life as well. I've been shocked at how easy some people speak about intimate details of their personal lives. Fights within families or spouses, struggles with finances, arguments within work or organizations. Where do you draw the boundaries of what things you can make public and what things should remain private? Perhaps our world is becoming one that no longer values privacy...Facebook, Twitter, blogging, etc. These communication avenues all promote the unfiltered sharing of both the intimate and the banal aspects of day-to-day life. There is something perturbing about the fact that I can login to my Facebook and quickly know who's in a bad mood, who's getting married, having babies, celebrating anniversaries, eating a cupcake, etc.

And perhaps the over-sharing of information fuels the gossiping.

My message to gossips: stop wasting your time talking about other people just because you lead a life of insignificance. If you do something of meaning with your life, you won't have time to be the person who's always preoccupied with sticking his/her nose in others' business. Also stop sharing intimate details about your life with people you barely know, or it will come back to bite you in the rear. And if you still have mouth-flapping troubles, start a habit of chewing sticky and hard taffy. All day, every day.

Good luck with your gym membership bills though. And I'll try not to mention that you've gained weight to all my networks, Facebook friends and email lists.

Getting Married

2011-01-01T16:06:00.001-05:00

December 23, 2010.

Until the above date, I didn't understand why people said things like: the day you get married is the best day of your life. I figured getting married was nice and special, but didn't like the idea of comparing it to every other day in your life...as if after you get married, it's all downhill from there!

But then the morning of December 23 came and it was sunny but cool, and calm. I slept in. I took my time getting out of bed, eating breakfast. My then-fiance came to pick something up from our place before the wedding and I peeked at him from the top floor of our apartment and smiled a delicious kind of secret smile. Slow conversations carried me into the afternoon where I ironed my dress carefully, ensuring all its corners were crisp and clean.

The florist delivered my bouquet.

The cake was delivered when I was in the shower, then I plopped my contacts in and dusted my face with faint, light make-up. I put the dress on and looked in the mirror - it was a kind of surreal glee. I stood looking at myself, feeling no nerves, no doubts...just an overwhelming sense of determination. I had found the one. And I had taken the means I'd been blessed with, and was marrying him. It seemed to be the most logical and easy decision I had ever made. I pinned my hijab in place.

With my loud and high heels, I clanked my way to the car, ensuring that my dress stayed pristine until the wedding. We drove by the sea on the way to the mosque; there was a cool breeze, and I was chewing gum, smiling, and joking as though I was on a regular day-errand. We arrived on time and I quickly scuttled in, making sure that he didn't see me in my dress before the ceremony.

I waited with my family in the women's prayer area, greeting guests and replying to the ocean of mabrooks being talked into my ears. My tongue wasn't tied.

After we prayed isha, I made my way up to the balcony of the mosque to have a clear view of the whole ceremony. For some reason, I was the last to get up there and the women had crowded the viewing areas. With my serene psychological forces, I willed them to part and I stood looking into the crowd of men and seeing my friend who was about to become my husband.

He signed and fingerprinted our marriage contract, and then I did. My writing was wobbly and lopsided, but my name was clear - I agree said my ink-stained thumb. And I watched as my father said the words that officially gave me away to my husband. Suddenly I was wrapped in the arms of women I knew and loved, and women I had just met for the first time. They were inexplicably happy, there were tears. I glanced down at the men's section and tried to scan the crowded room for the guy, but he was lost somewhere in the the arms of some friend or relative.

I felt the same as before. Happy, calm, sure of myself. Nothing seemed to have changed.

My husband escaped and made his way to the women's section to exchange rings with me. His face was bright and filled with an innocent bewilderment as he took my hand and kissed my forehead (to the soundtrack of giggling women). My cheeks were flushed, but it all seemed as though it was the most natural sequence of events. As though I knew beforehand that this was all going to happen this way.

There were chocolates and drinks passed around. I didn't taste them. My husband saved a chocolate for me to eat later, but my brother got to it first. And that was okay.

We linked arms and made our way out of the mosque to be greeted by a crowd of happy faces, confetti and hand-held fireworks. My husband's friends ambushed him and threw him up into the air a few times for good measure. I looked on in amazement and kept stealing glances at this man who was now suddenly my closest partner in life. I smiled because I absolutely knew he was the right ally to make.

After snapping some photos, he took my by the hand and led me from the festivities to his friend's car to drive us away.

Between the smiles and careful, treasured first words, I quietly said alhamdulillah and I knew that I would never be surprised by anything beautiful that God allows me to have in my life, because He was the only one capable of bringing two people from different parts of the globe together - people who didn't know about each other just a year before, people who weren't even interested in this thing called love anymore, people who had surrendered themselves to the harshness of disappointment.

But God is Al-Fattah, The Opener of doors, opportunities, chances at regaining piety, forgiveness, love. And nothing more remains for me except to thank Him every day for making what seemed to be so hard at first, so so easy and wonderful and full of immense beauty and contentment.

And now I get why people say getting married is the best day of your life. It's true. Alhamdulillah.

2010-12-09T01:53:00.002-05:00

Who am I?

Cookie Monster

2010-12-03T14:50:00.001-05:00

Last week I had an itch to make cookie monster cupcakes. I had seen them online a long time ago and had vowed that I would one day make them because of their innate and true awesomeness.

I started with a cake mix (and I feel truly hypocritical for doing so considering I am severely opposed to the idea of mixes in general). Making stuff from scratch is definitely the way to go, but I was feeling super lazy and well, cake mix was on sale. The product of the cake mix was in most ways agreeable:

My chocolate cupcake concoction.

Following this, I attempted to make regular white icing blue, by adding blue food colouring. To reach my desired colour, I ended up using most of the bottle of food colouring - and in the process I got A LOT of things very blue, including my hands, tongue (from continuously licking my fingers) and even feet. Not really sure how my feet got blue...I'll leave that to your imagination.

Trying to get a my desired colour.

I didn't take a picture of the next step for some reason (which was to stick an actual cookie into a slit I made in each of the cupcakes). This is my next photo:

Creepiness

What you see here is an extremely creepy version of what the cupcake is supposed to look like. I put the cookie in its mouth (a little too deep) and used mints for the eyes because I didn't have time to buy what I was actually supposed to use (white chocolate wafers).

But hold on folks, it gets even creepier:

This cookie monster will come get you while you are sleeping in your bed.

This was my sad attempt at adding eyeballs with melted chocolate. As you can see, my first cookie monster cupcake looks deranged and somewhat rabid.

However, I did get the hang of it soon enough and these were some of my final product:

This picture makes me laugh every time I look at it

They still look deranged, but in a more organized and less uncomfortable way. Anyway the moral of this story is that it was fun. You should try it. And I firmly believe that being creative with the things you can later eat is the BEST kind of creativity that exists.

I did feel sad making these because my nephew Adam would've loved them to death. He used to come barging into my room saying "cookie monster, cookie monster" so I could show him some YouTube clips of cookie monster while he sat on my lap. But alas his family moved. I DEDICATE THESE CUPCAKES TO YOU ADAM. (you might appreciate this when you learn how to read)

Long December

2010-12-02T23:01:00.001-05:00

When I found out it was December (yes, I am behind the times) I was gobsmacked. Wasn't it just January 1st 3 minutes ago?

December 2010 will be a remembered month.

Sleeping with Unbrushed Teeth

2010-11-26T01:50:00.000-05:00

Now usually, I find this to be disgusting. I can't possibly sleep comfortably while knowing my teeth have gunk from the day left in them. But what happens when you brush your teeth (planning to go to sleep) and then you suddenly crave a tasty morsel of food. Or you remember you wanted to eat something before and it had slipped your mind. Or your sister comes into your room and says "do you want to eat with me?"

In cases such as these, the pleasure of eating supersedes the benefits of going to sleep with brushed teeth. Because honestly speaking, after I eat...I'm not brushing my teeth again.

There is no point to this post. Well, other than the point made about eating pleasures superseding other pleasures.

Good day.

2010-11-23T02:22:00.002-05:00

Sometimes I wonder if all the white people in the world got together for a secret meeting and all decided they would call me ASTHMA.

The Invitation

2010-11-15T01:28:00.002-05:00

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your
fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."

It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after a night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

Have you ever been so tired

2010-11-13T21:12:00.002-05:00

that your eyeballs feel like they're going to plop out of their sockets?

That's me now.

More on that later.

Part Three: 30 day photo challenge

2010-11-07T21:15:00.004-05:00

I'm already getting annoyed with this 30 day challenge thing. They should make one of these for people with attention deficit issues...something like "the 2 day challenge." So, I'm going to knock out the entire rest of the challenge right now to get the damn thing over with, so I can go back to sucking on a Halloween discount lollipop in peace.

LET'S DO THIS.

A picture of your most treasured item.

This is a (somewhat veiled) picture of the ring my lovely fiance gave me just a few weeks ago. It's not so much the ring that's treasured, it's the honesty, trust, and acceptance that is symbolizes. Gets me every time. Alhamdulillah.

It's veiled because only special people get to see it. Sorry freaks.

A picture that makes you laugh.
So you may not be able to see this clearly before you click on it - but this is a photo of my little sister's various stuffed animals that she put on my bed while I was out one day, with a note that says "We ♥ Asmaa lolz."

A little chucky-esque, but still makes me laugh.

A picture of the person who has gotten you through the most.

Al-Jabbar - The Repairer of hearts. When I think about all the low places I've been throughout my life, I am so thankful that I had Allah (swt) to guide me through those difficult pieces. It takes humility to recognize that we are far from self-sufficient, and that the only one we can truly rely on to get us through, is Him. Everyone else in life will disappoint you. He won't.

A picture of the person you do the stupidest things with.

This is the lovely nephew, Adam. I must say, the kind of weird baby-talk that I start spewing when he's around boggles my logical mind.

Anyway, he has taken me through some insanely stupid but hilarious experiences. In this photo, he had discovered my chapstick, and proceeded to spread it all over his lips and face, then had the guiltiest grin when I finally found him and snapped this insane picture. Oh Adam.

A picture of something you love.

I'm now thinking this should have been runner-up to "most valued item" but I don't actually have this item, and it's not permanent because it would basically be inhaled once it was in my line of vision.

But, yes, chocolate. Specifically things of a chocolatey nature that are FLUFFY (cakes, cupcakes, etc.). But I also enjoy chocolate bars and such. Chocolate stands by me through thick and thin (err...mostly thick though). Speaking of which, I have a drawer full of Halloween sale chocs that I'm about to raid at the moment because I need to get through the rest of this list without stabbing myself in the eye with a fork.

A picture of your favorite band or artist.

Don't hate me for posting this picture of my favourite "band" - I'm in a really corny mood. Especially considering I'm pretty much writing this in the middle of the night. But yeah, I like rubber bands because you can shoot them at people (as shown in picture) and cause pain. This is not my hand - I just had to clarify that due to its disgusting hairiness.

Also. I used to collect rubber bands when I was in high school. And then one day I was cleaning my room and decided to throw them all away because I realized I was being a pack rat and people who collect things are usually a bit insane...and I could buy rubber bands at the dollar store. The end. Time to disband everyone! Get it...disband...okay it's only funny if you're up much too late and eating sugary substances simultaneously.

A picture of someone you could never imagine your life without.

This guy that I just drew in paint. I just think the drawing is pretty cool, and his pink striped shirt is very masculine.

Also, paint is the best computer program ever created.

A picture of something you want to do before you die.

I want to be in this place and walk on the ground that holds so much significant memories. It's interesting when I think about the "history" of Islam...because when I'm remembering all the stories of how Islam first began...they almost seem like personal memories, not just something you read in a book.

I want to go for hajj & see where my ancestors first worshipped God alone. I always imagine that regardless of how crowded it is...I'll feel like I'm the only one there. I wonder if that's true or not.

A picture of someone who inspires you.

"America needs to understand Islam, because this is the one religion that erases from its society the race problem. Throughout my travels in the Muslim world, I have met, talked to, and even eaten with people who in America would have been considered white, but the white attitude was removed from their minds by the religion of Islam. I have never before seen sincere and true brotherhood practiced by all together, irrespective of their color."

Malcolm X because he had the guts to do and say what no one else would.

I remember I did a project on Malcolm X in high school, and at one point, a girl turned to me and said "who's Malcolm X?" I was gobsmacked (as Brits like to say); floored. I wondered how anyone in their right mind didn't know about this incredibly influential historical figure.

And then it dawned on me that most people don't care. That was a sad day in my life.

A picture of something that has made a huge impact on your life recently.
I haven't been going to the gym as much lately (I need someone to motivate me!), but I joined a few months ago and it has definitely had an impact on the way I see my own health.

I still feast on chocolate things, that hasn't changed. But going to the gym made me think about my health in general - physical and emotional health. And I think it was really important for me to start looking at myself in 3D - i.e. taking all aspects of my wellness into consideration. Now, I don't think that life can truly be balanced if you're missing out on having a truly healthy body (which, to me, necessitates a healthy heart and mind as well). Not saying that I've achieved health in any of these dimensions, but I have recognized their importance.

A picture of your biggest insecurity.
If I'm insecure about something - nay, if it's my BIGGEST insecurity, what would poses me to post a picture of it on my blog? Whoever made this challenge needs to punch him/herself in the face.

A picture of somewhere you'd love to travel.

I was going to put a picture of decomposed bodies from Pompeii and say that I wanted to visit it - I'm not sure how popular Pompeii is with tourists, but I think it would be a weird and chilling place to visit.

But, I would also like to climb Mount Sinai in Egypt. It's been something I wanted to do for years, but never got the opportunity to. Something about the nighttime hike, the sunrise...but mostly, the history.

I would also like to travel to Turkey (I hear they have nice hijabs), and Dubai (because I want to see what all the "decadence" hullabaloo is about).

A picture of you when you were little.

Ask and you shall receive.

A picture of something you wish you could forget.
My thoughts keep going to "your mom" but I will refrain from such debased humour. Also, I won't be posting a picture, because the stuff I'm trying to forget...I actually want to forget. And posting a picture would just remind me of it. I will tell you though - a youtube video of someone diving off a cliff into water, but he ended up hitting his head instead. Also, a video of an elephant killing a man. Also, a video of a woman who had her face ripped off by a chimpanzee. I definitely want to erase these from my memory. I think it's best if you don't ask why I've seen all these videos.

A picture of something you wish you were better at.

Painting.

A picture of your favorite book.

Basically anything that has "for dummies" at the end of its title. Not because I have actually read any of these books. Rather, because they make me laugh, and I hope whoever it was that patented this idea is sitting on a beach somewhere with multiple servants...because this idea is brilliant and deserves reward.

A picture of something you wish you could change.

I'm trying to figure out how to take a picture of this 30 day challenge. I hate it and I don't think anyone else should do it, because it's terrible. I could also put a picture of my latest bank statement, but that would make me cry, so I shall refrain.

A picture of your day.

This is me at the beach. I think the beach is the best. Thanks to McMir for taking me there for my first time. It always makes me happy to look at large bodies of water.

And the wind blowing through my hijab.

But not in the summer when there are dumb high schoolers being all ditsy and ruining the large body of water.

A picture of something that means a lot to you.

I was going to take a picture of my degree for this and then I thought to myself "what the hell am I doing?" and decided to stop taking drugs.

Instead, I present you with a bearded cookie made by my older sister because she is both insane and a genius all at once. Although I'm pretty sure this was my idea at some point in my life, which she conveniently stole and put to use for my engagement shindig.

Or it could just be that hilariousness runs in our genes. Yeah, I'll go with that for now. I think it should be self-explanatory why this picture means a lot to me.

A picture of yourself and a family member.

Speak of the devil.

Me and my older sister...everyone things we are twins even though she's more than 5 years older than me. She always takes it as a compliment when people can't tell that she's older than me.

Similarly, she always buys the same clothes as me. We just bought the same cardigan today. It is green. Maybe that's why people think we're twins. Oh well.

A picture of something you're afraid of.

The first thing that came to mind when I saw this challenge was "your mom" but I decided it would be a little inappropriate to say that (too late, right).

I was then going to post a picture of a cockroach (the google image search was absolutely revolting and I felt gags and shivers all over) - but then I found something even worse. Which is a picture of a guy eating a cockroach. And I'm afraid of this because well, damn, if you can eat a cockroach, you can do mostly anything else in the world that is disgusting. And that concept just scares me.

A picture that can always make you smile.

This is a supremely more interesting rendition of "pin the tail on the donkey." Copyright to my younger sister for making it up and drawing it. The game was very fun.

A picture of someone you miss.

All the babies who are related to me...none of which I have around me right now, which is very sad and disheartening considering that babies are basically the best remedy for almost any kind of ailment.

And cute babies run in our family.

And most importantly, I have no one to say "hi baby!" to.

And now the challenge is over and I can move on with my life. GOOD DAY.

Kauthar Paints

2010-11-03T02:22:00.006-04:00

I

Kauthar rinsed her paint brushes meticulously, looking for any pockets of acrylic paint that could’ve gotten stuck between the bristles the last time she painted. She stacked her supplies in a black reusable bag and slid her starch-white canvas under her arm and headed out to scavenge a good place to be creative – she needed bright colours in her landscape, but not too many intricate details – you see, she was still a general blob-painter.

She set up her material with the lake in the background and peered over her spectacles at the island she could see in the far distance. Kauthar wanted to abandon her things and jump into the lake, and float. Just float on her back, look up at the clouded sky and see where she would end up. But, she supposed painting was more sophisticated, more appropriate for a woman of her persuasion; that is, a woman not wishing to deal with the impracticality of wet clothes after a romantic-sounding dip in the lake.

Her hands trembled as they reached for the brush. All she needed was a bit of white and blue to get started on the sky, and she was transported to another place – a place where all she had to do every day was wake up, soak in the sun, and bask in the glory of creation. The brush strokes were firm, sure, bold. She knew her final product would never be a masterpiece...it wouldn’t be quite fit to be hung in any gallery or even respectable living room. But it was okay because it made her feel alive to feel the marriage of colours, to smell the sweetness in the wind and slight toxicity of the paint invading her lungs; to taste the thirst of getting lost in one brief moment of time, and forgetting to take a sip of water.

That’s how she wanted to live; grasping a freedom that cannot be attained through relationships with other people, only through a myriad of crushed dreams coming back to life through the colours of the five senses.

II

Kauthar carefully stepped into her fourth bridal gown of the day. She marvelled at how heavy these beaded beasts really were, and quietly wondered if it was true that wearing white at the wedding was a tradition that happened by accident – something about how women would wear the fanciest dresses they had, which were coincidentally white simply because cotton was the best fabric out there. So white had nothing to do with purity, just convenience?

That wouldn’t have surprised Kauthar in the least – the supposed man-hating, socialist-leaning creature that she was. No surprise that corporate colonialist right-winged zealots had to market purity as being white. And yet at this moment in time, she was eyeing herself in the change room mirror, a snug ivory gown hugging her body and – good God, I need a tan. The irony was a little much as she stepped out from behind the curtain to hear the other girls “ooh” and “ahh” at the beauty of the regal but much too expensive glam of a gown. This one had a bit of a Marilyn Monroe halter-top edge. And as much as she disliked the idea of a wedding being a sort of sanctimonious announcement of wealth, Kauthar started to love the dresses.

There were strapless dresses, ones that were covered in lace from top to bottom, gowns with enormous trains and endlessly intricate beading. All for her. And perhaps that overly emotional woman crying at the register.

And this was her first time. Kauthar didn’t have many “first-times” in her life, considering she had grown comfortable in her way of life. She ate the same things, dressed the same way (actually, she couldn’t remember the last item of clothing she bought), and thought the same kinds of thoughts. She had even tried on diamond engagement rings before – making up an elaborate story about how her then-fake fiancé was leaving the country this weekend, and she needed to try on diamond rings so she could let him know what kind to buy her.

Yes, this was a first-time. The material draped over her skin and fell to the ground, covering the tips of her toes. As she stood in front of the mirror admiring the elegant bunched up lace around her waist, she wistfully thought: I look like a painting.

III

Omar began to unwrap the DHL package he had just received a few moments ago. The wrapping fell to the ground as he noticed it came with no card, no explanation, no name. It was a large, vague painting of a body of water at sunset, and a deliberately precise streak of ivory paint across the canvas; an empty dress floating above the water.

Part II: 30 day photo challenge

2010-10-31T11:46:00.000-04:00

Continuing the photo challenge...although I am technically 2 days late for this update. Oh well.

A picture of your night.

This is me getting into some odd mischief late at night. There definitely is something about the cover of night that makes you want to do stupid and fun and possibly fine-able things.

Like once on the occasion of my little sister's high school graduation, the two of us joined my brother on an all-night eating/movie spree. We went to an arcade, then watched a really late screening of the Karate Kid (Jackie Chan is amazing) and then hit several food joints - for shawarma, then a McFlurry, then we went to a couple different Tim Hortons because they kept not having the thing we really wanted - til we found (a deserted) one that was satisfactory. Amazingness.

A picture of your favourite memory.

I have a lot of amazing memories, but the one that trumps them all just happened last night. My sisters got together with some friends to plan a "surprise" party for me. Unfortunately, prior to the event, one of my friends accidentally spilled the beans and let it slip that this was happening. And my sisters felt very violent towards her because they were working so hard to keep it a secret. That was hilarious.

The party was a blast (the picture here is of a cupcake-cake which was amazing), and we played some interesting and embarrassing games. And throughout the process I realized I have the best sisters & friends I could've asked for, and that's what counts most. Plus there was good food, and that also counts. Ahem.

A picture of a person you'd love to trade places with for a day.

This question sobered me up a bit. When I think about whether I want to actually trade places with anyone in the world, the answer is no. Not because I have a perfect life - I don't. And not because I don't aspire or dream about having or being more - I do.

But I deeply value everything that I have and everything that I am, Alhamdulillah. So even if I could cop out and be someone else just for one day, I'd still want to be me. Thus, I refuse to post a picture.

Chocolat

2010-10-28T02:18:00.003-04:00

Undoubtedly the best movie ever made.

30 day photo challenge

2010-10-26T13:41:00.003-04:00

Sara tagged me to do this 30 day photo challenge with her, which is basically...a 30 day photo challenge...okay my explanation capabilities have been massacred. Let's try this again: over the next month, I will be posting pictures of stuff related to me, in the hopes that my brain does not turn to gooey mush for not being occupied with something.

Let us begin.

Post a picture of yourself with 15 facts.

1. I prefer the boys with beards.

2. This morning I woke up feeling like someone had hit my throat with a hammer. (i.e. sore throat; no I do not live with abusive people).

3. I wish I was a painter who traveled around the world painting stuff in return for food and shelter.

4. I like the Twilight series, and I'm not ashamed.

5. I watch Grey's Anatomy, and I am ashamed.

6. I can eat a surprising amount of bubble gum in one sitting. Followed by a hot dog, a peanut butter sandwich and (to stay healthy) an orange.

7. I got my ears pierced when I was 17.

8. I love the day after Halloween for its cheap chocolate and candy, which I always buy in overabundance as if there will be a world-wide candy and chocolate shortage that I need to stock up for.

9. How is this list not over yet?

10. I am underqualified for jobs that I want, and overqualified for jobs that I'll put up with.

11. I don't like cheesecake.

12. I think the number "12" is kind of arrogant-looking. 11 is softer, while 13 has a bad-boy image going on.

13. I have just over two years to get my drivers' license before my G1 expires. Way to go, Asmaa.

14. I wear glasses and they are purple.

15. It greatly annoys me when people ask me to help them edit their school work just based on the goodness of my heart, coupled with my English skills. I have better things to do with my time than get you a B, when you really deserved a D. Let's not kid ourselves.

A picture of the person you've been closest to the longest.

This is my lovely friend who tagged me to do this post, Sara. And this is a hilarious picture, because it's from the 8th grade, and she's pretending that Science puts her to sleep.

What can I say, we were very sharp and witty at that age.

And although I doubt Sara will enjoy seeing this picture up here, I have faith that she will realize it's simply a way of getting back at her for the interesting photo she put up on her blog :D Also, there is more where this came from. I'm just saying.

A photo of the cast of your favourite TV show

Although I have seen my fair share of shows, I maintain that Arthur is the best show ever made. I'm pretty sure. I've been watching it since it first aired in 1996.

I know quality when I see it.

It is also interesting to note that Francine Frensky always reminded me of Sara (as pictured above). I continue to maintain this position.

Stay tuned for more nonsensical photos and commentary from yours truly.

A case of severe cabin fever...

2010-10-26T12:47:00.003-04:00

The version you know:

One two
buckle my shoe
Three four
shut the door
Five six
pick up sticks
Seven eight
lay them straight
Nine ten
a big fat hen.

My version:

One two
go eat cat poo
Three four
you're a chore
Five six
kill some hicks
Seven eight
gain some weight
Nine ten
start again.

I'm going back to sleep.

There's something about getting married that can't quite be put into words...

2010-10-20T00:44:00.000-04:00

Being engaged is interesting.

I've kind of been wondering how to write about it on my blog, and even if I should. But then my good friend Sara wrote about it on her blog, and it just seemed perfect for me to direct my handful of readers there. She puts it into the right words for me here. =)

Patience is Rewarded

2010-10-10T04:49:00.001-04:00

I once heard Muhammad Alshareef saying something I think is quite poignant. And only in recent months have I realized just how true it is. He said (paraphrased) the precise moment you make the decision to be patient, the doors of this world open up to you, and Allah (swt) makes things easy for you.

I thought this statement was interesting at best. I specifically remember I was going through some tough times at the moment I heard this and I wondered how this could at all be true. I felt I had been patient with my situation for a long time, but nothing was changing for the better.

The problem is, we all think we're being patient just because we're putting up with difficult or annoying things in life. But that's not the definition of patience. Patience is more than just waiting the situation out, it's more than just resigning yourself to misery, it's more than just waiting for better things to happen to you.

Patience is actually about being proactive! It's not about resigning yourself to a situation - rather, it's about accepting your circumstances and taking the opportunity to make yourself stronger through them. We don't know how to be patient - too often do we confuse patience for "resignation" and thus when we are advised to be patient, we almost scoff at the notion, as if patience is for those who are weak. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. It's something you breathe in, something you have a conversation with, something alive and pumping through your veins. Even something you fight with sometimes.

The funny thing is, it takes massively incalculable strength to actually be patient.

I don't think I can honestly identify more than one time where I was genuinely patient. But the one time that I can, just the one time...subhanAllah! All it took was one brief moment of deciding with all my heart to just do ONE small, insignificant thing for the sake of Allah, and He opened up so many doors for me since that small decision was made, it's almost mind boggling.

So, I don't know what to tell you except that we all need to examine what our definition of patience is; I'm not sure if I elucidated it well in this post. Probably not. Nonetheless, it's worth ruminating over because we both know that one of the ultimate keys to success is patience.

So go forth and discuss it with your brain. And smile while you're at it.

Confess

2010-10-03T23:50:00.000-04:00

The hardest person to confess your inadequacies and weaknesses to, is yourself.

boys still make me cry

2010-10-01T23:19:00.000-04:00

My lovely amazing crazy awesome spunky cutie of a nephew has officially moved to the states. Sadly, we don't know how long they're staying there since it all depends on his dad's work.

Who knew the absence of a 2 year old would be one of the saddest things of life?

I go through my days looking at things around me and remembering what Adam would do or say if he was there. Like how he would always turn to me at the top of a flight of stairs and say "I need horsey" (i.e. a piggyback)...he never "wanted" anything, he always NEEDED it. Or how he would mispronounce certain words (e.g. he'd say "inshide" instead of "inside"). Or how he'd pick up anything and everything we said to each other, and one day he turned to me and said "what the hell" and we died laughing (even though, technically it was bad).

And he always wanted to watch youtube videos, and I would try saying no but he would say "pwease Asmaa" and have a look of pure innocence and pleading...and my heart would melt and he'd always get his way. Sigh.

And now he's gone and I'm sad.

2010-09-27T19:52:00.002-04:00

oh man...all my favourite fall shows are back. This is bad.

And yet, so good.

Muhammad Jibreel

2010-09-23T12:12:00.000-04:00

I wish it had an English translation so more people could fully enjoy it...but this just makes my heart happy.

New to Canada? Oh I'll show you what's new to Canada...

2010-09-20T23:55:00.001-04:00

Today a woman tried to hand me a "New to Canada" flyer as I walked into a public library. I wanted to punch her in the face. But instead I said dryly: "I'm not new to Canada," and she tried to save her embarrassment by saying "oh okay, but maybe you know people who are." And I said "no, I don't" and walked away.

I wonder how long it will take for people to not assume every hijabi is a foreigner. To the naysayers who respond to things like this by saying "oh she's just trying to be helpful" or "she just made a mistake"...it was no mistake. To her (and to many others) hijab = foreigner.

It's an overarching mentality that is damaging and that needs to be addressed. The fact that we still have a stereotypical image of what a "Canadian" looks like vs. what an "immigrant" looks like is just mind-numbing. You'd think all this talk about diversity and such would lead people to realize they can't judge a book by its cover (or judge someone's citizenship status by her religious garb!).

Obviously this isn't the case for only hijabis - people of different races or cultural/religious backgrounds face similar assumptions being made about them as well.

Next time someone tried to hand me a flyer like that, I should have one called "Racist Stereotyping Problems? We can help!" (with a phone number that will lead them to a voicemail that says "if you have reached this line, you are guilty of being a racist bigot. Go eat some Kraft macaroni and cheese and wash it down with a lemon spritzer.")

Haha. Okay, only I would laugh. But that's what counts anyway.

Hints that the field of social work may not be right for you...

2010-09-19T00:40:00.002-04:00

You're lying in bed and you hear your little sister calling you from her room across the hall in a panicky voice - to kill a spider, obviously. And your response to her is: "man up and grow some."

Maybe I could run for mayor though.

Manufacturing Unhappiness

2010-09-12T01:19:00.003-04:00

Everything is amazing and no one is happy as coined by Louis C.K.

A capitalistic society automatically manufactures unhappiness. In order for people to be transformed into consumers, they need to genuinely believe that the things they have are not good enough. They need to, from the very depths of their souls, develop a lust for materialistic gains.

Needless to say, that is not in our fitrah or our innate character when we are brought into this world. Perhaps some competition and some of our desires are natural. But the way we have come to perceive our needs is wholly and undeniably unnatural. We are no longer able to differentiate between our wants and needs! I NEED a new phone, I NEED a car, I NEED this beauty product to be presentably pretty. Nothing is ever about wanting anymore.

From the day we're born, we are constantly inundated with advertisements that make us feel bad about ourselves. Every single form of media out there propagates insecurity until human beings are stuffed so full of hatred of themselves, that they would spend all their wages and more to buy things. And the sad thing is, those things will never fill that unhappy void.

Look in the mirror, talk to yourself. Chances are that you hate something about your body, especially if you're female. You want the "flawless" body of Megan Fox and a timelessly beautiful face like Scarlett Johansson (not that I particularly admire these women, but they are rated as being amongst the most beautiful women int he world).

Okay, so you want to be beautiful, stunning even. What else do you ~~want~~ need?

A nice car, or two or three.
A big house, professionally decorated of course.
Admiration of people.
A summer cottage.
A boat maybe?

Pretend for a moment that you have all of those things, and whatever else you "need." Then will you be happy?

If you answered "yes," you have a rude awakening coming your way. Because guess what? You have been taught to hate yourself so much, that once you receive that rock-hard body, you'll think you need breast implants. And once you have those, you'll think your breasts are too big.

And once you have your beautiful house, it will seem hollow and empty and not cozy - so you'll install a fireplace. But it won't really change the fact that you are hollow and empty inside. Once you have your immaculate car, a newer model will come out, and you will absolutely need it.

And you'll race yourself to obtain material goods until the day you die. And then no one will remember you.

All because you hate yourself to begin with. You feel so incomplete that every day is the same struggle to add things and people into your life so you can finally feel whole...does it work?

Our society manufactures unhappiness so that you will need to be a different person than you are - so that you will buy their products, enroll in their gyms, want every latest techy gadget out there, and the biggest and the bestest of everything.

I never knew I could just wake up one day and decide to be happy instead. I never knew. And it makes me so angry to know that I wasted parts of my life pretending to need things that, when obtained, only made me feel worse about myself, more lonely, and less beautiful.

Personally, I can't ever imagine being happy without the blessing of Islam and the spirituality that accompanies it. To know that God is Al-Jabbar: the Repairer, Restorer, The One who completes that which is incomplete. When I learned that Name of God, it floored me. Absolutely floored me and challenged everything I thought I knew about what it meant to be repaired and complete. I know now that solace will never be found in things.

So look in the mirror again - and make a list of the things that you love about yourself. The things that are unique and beautiful and that you wouldn't ever change. Count every one of your blessings. And as God says, you will never be able to enumerate them all.

You are the only one who can decide to be happy. And when you decide to love yourself, even with the ridiculous flaws you have, YOU will be capitalism's worst nightmare.

And that's awesome.

Eat Mubarak

2010-09-09T16:30:00.000-04:00

The ending of Ramadan is both sad and happy - the community starts to disperse, the warm masjid humming of kids and women making du'aa is mostly gone, and that high sense of spirituality is evaporating. But it's Eid, which is meant to be a beautiful celebration - and there's hope, lots of hope that God is pleased with our efforts and devotion to Him in the past month.

Yes, the ending of Ramadan is always so bittersweet. To make up for it, eat cake.

whack job dreams

2010-09-08T21:06:00.002-04:00

A few days ago I had a dream that a gay Chinese man was waxing my eyebrows and trying to convince me to make them thinner than they are. I probably had beans for iftar that day.

First day of school

2010-09-08T15:13:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was the first day everyone went back to school. I went to the beach.

This is why I'm so nice during the day

2010-09-04T15:57:00.002-04:00

I really enjoy art - painting, sketching, and just about anything that's creative. It gets my mind's wheels a-turnin' and my creative juices slopping around (that sounded nasty). And to top it off, it helps relieve stress and is quite the therapeutic hobby.

Take for example my most recent masterpiece:

I call it "Night at Sea."

(Or the alternate title: "Death on Silent Seas whose Nightly Depths Decry the Secrets of Dark Souls.")

Like I said. Therapeutic.

Quality Control...

2010-09-02T20:04:00.002-04:00

Don't you just love it when you invite people over for iftar, they bring some kind of cookies or pie or cake, and you do some "quality control" over in the kitchen before dessert time? Don't act like you don't do it - sneak a piece when everyone's busy outside.

This is my quality control of today. Soft chocolate cookies with lemon icing and sprinkles. Actually I just found out as I was posting this that I still had a sprinkle stuck to my face. It was that good :D

As I always say, fatty food is good for your soul.

Chameleon

2010-09-02T00:20:00.000-04:00

When I try to define the "type" of person I am, I'm often left drawing a blank. Some people can easily identify with one personality type over another, or one emotional disposition. But when people ask me to define myself in those categories, I end up saying something stupid like "well I like to joke around a lot, but I'm also serious. I'm a big goofball, but people also look to me for advice. I'm very emotional, but only about specific things."

You see how that can start to sound a little but schizophrenic-like? This isn't only from my perspective though. For example, I've been called a sap, but also been called "stone cold." The best one by far though, was being called "emotionally unbalanced" :D

Perhaps that last statement is the most true out of them all - but I'd like to re-frame that and instead call myself a very talented chameleon. I change and adapt depending on the situation. No one quite knows what my original colour is - but is that really important?

Why do I have to be a certain personality "type" anyway? I'd like to just be all the things you weren't expecting.

...and Muslim is the new Witch

2010-08-31T03:13:00.001-04:00

A few days ago I was at an iftar at a friend's place. Apparently I was the oldest one there, as I so neatly found out while everyone was introducing themselves as 19 and 20 year olds. So my turn came around and I said "my name is Asmaa, I'm 24..." and a girl turns to me with a shocked look on her face and says "but you look so young!"

Well gee, I didn't realize 24 was the new 40.

Time for a Change

2010-08-30T02:33:00.005-04:00

So as you can see, I revamped my blog layout because I hadn't really done so in the past five years. I think I like it.

The Qur'an: cooking with omee, driving with abee

2010-08-28T23:52:00.003-04:00

The other day I was with my sisters and we were preparing for an iftar because we were having guests over. We decided to play some Qur'an while we worked, and there were several different options for recitors we could choose. The three of us were arguing over who was the best recitor was...and every time my sister put a different recitor on, we would have an associated memory with his voice.

For example, Abu Bakr Al-Shatery reminded us of cooking with our mom in the kitchen, since that's what she plays when cutting onions and such. Muhammad Jibreel reminded us of riding in the car with our dad, because that's what he plays on long drives.

Then there are certain verses that remind us of our own histories. Like when I come across the ayat in Surat Yusuf where Yaqoub's eyes go white with sorrow and he says: "I only complain of my distraction and anguish to Allah, and I know from Allah that which ye know not...O my sons! go ye and inquire about Joseph and his brother, and never give up hope of Allah's Soothing Mercy: truly no one despairs of Allah's Soothing Mercy, except those who have no faith."

The ayat bring back emotions and memories from the past - a time when I found such great comfort in the verses. And every time I read or hear them, I'm filled with such gratitude that I have Allah (swt) to complain to of my own anguish.

Or one of my ultimate favourite surahs Ad-Duha when Allah (swt) says to His prophet: "Thy Guardian Lord has not forsaken you, nor is He displeased" it brings to mind the beautiful mercy and compassion that Allah had for our prophet, and the same mercy He has for all of us...subhanAllah.

It's kind of cool to have those homey memories associated with the recitation - the Qur'an holds greater significance even beyond it's literal meanings. It's so intertwined in our actions and memories that we can't separate it from our beings. It lives with us, even if we don't realize it. I guess the only thing remaining is for us to live with it, too.

brownies and obedience

2010-08-26T01:03:00.000-04:00

Today I made brownies. And honestly speaking, they were frikin amazing. I should add "mad baking skills" to my marriage resume (right beneath "weak ability to be obedient"). I think the former makes up for the latter.

the universal gift

2010-08-24T02:06:00.000-04:00

What makes a mug the one neutral gift that is acceptable to give in almost any situation? Come on, how many times have you received a mug as a gift? In both my social work placements, my supervisors gave me mugs at the end of my term with them. Case in point:

Currently found in the communal cupboard of the home kitchen.

I guess a mug transcends culture without the risk of offense or cultural inappropriateness. But to be honest, I would've appreciated a couple of unmarked bills in a sealed white envelope.

If anyone who ever plans to give me a gift is reading this post, you know what to do.

Marriage proposals that make you want to run away into the wilderness and live your life as a hermit and part-time beaver

2010-08-20T15:08:00.000-04:00

A girl my age must be in want of a husband, right?

BUT it always strikes me as odd when people try to hook me up with the most random and clearly incompatible guys. Guys who are 8-10 years older than me, possibly divorced, sometimes with one or more children already, fobs (but not even Arab fobs which at least would be somewhat understandable! - sometimes Bengali, Indian fobs).

What on earth would make you think that a 24 year old Egyptian semi-professional (I say semi, because I am still unemployed) female would want to marry a 30-something Indian divorced male with a kid, who only came to Canada a few years ago?

People are absolutely WHACK. I don't know how else to say it.

So I say with utmost appreciation for your gallant efforts: stop trying to hook me up, because your attempts are just sad and scary.

Bin Laden Funnies

2010-08-18T00:18:00.003-04:00

Osama Bin Laden and Al-Qaeda are generally not funny. But there are 2 things I came across recently related to them that just made me LOL (yes, they actually made me laugh out loud, not just fake 'lol').

1. This video:

.

2. Just the name of this Facebook group. If you're not on Facebook, the name of the group is: "The Awkwardness When Osama Bin Laden Asks You For The Time And It's 9:11." Whoever came up with that name is a genius.

No disrespect is meant to anyone with this, nor am I condoning any violent acts against people, but I'm sorry - these are just HILARIOUS :D

Ramzan & eighteen

2010-08-12T23:43:00.001-04:00

I remember holding my little sister in my arms when she was born...her jaundiced little body, and the sleepless nights my parents endured with her. She turns 18 on August 13 (which is in precisely 17 minutes). EIGHTEEN. She even has her own blog.

Therefore:

1. I feel old.
2. Years are going by a lot faster than I want them to.

p.s. Ramadan mubarak freaks, geeks, nerds, and babies.

> a man

2010-08-10T02:48:00.001-04:00

I'm a 24 year old female, and yet I always have to be the bigger person. I have to have strong leadership qualities. I often have to suck up my emotions and just MAN UP because the situation calls for it.

The sad thing is, I'm a better man than most men I know.

Kauthar and the Ridiculous Beard

2010-08-03T17:09:00.001-04:00

At the behest of her worn out mother’s advocacy, Kauthar decided she would meet Omar. If anything, it was just another blind date of sorts to add to her arsenal of interestingly bad marriage experiences. The optimism was practically oozing out of her mother as they both made their way to the meeting spot at her uncle’s home.

The cab ride was much shorter than Kauthar had anticipated. She kept mulling over the ever-important questions and thoughts every girl asks herself before she meets a prospective. What should I ask him, I wonder if he’ll be taller than the last one, the dude had better have a nice beard if I’m going to waste my time meeting him, I should have worn black so as not to look so attractive, if he has bad breath I will pretend to be a niqabi.

Kauthar wished she had more time to mentally prepare.

They unloaded themselves from the taxi and walked through the narrow streets to her uncle’s home. Her skirt was too long, and swept up the dust and sand off the badly lit streets. Later she would find her ankles to be discoloured to match the dirt. Her uncle’s building had no elevator, so they lifted their skirts and made their way up the stairs while Kauthar wondered how disabled people could possible live in this part of the country. They stopped at the 2nd floor and signalled to each other to wait to catch their breath before ringing the doorbell.

They were let in with warm kisses and hugs, and intrigued looks indicating that everyone just automatically knew Kauthar was here to meet her supposed future husband. She felt an urge to excuse herself and vomit over the balcony rail. She refrained from doing so, however, and sat nicely with her stained ankles crossed, making small talk about the weather, how awful her last seamstress was, and whether or not she wanted a piece of cake baked in a gas oven. No thanks. Her left eye had an odd habit of twitching under a relatively minor amount of stress, and it was twitching away at the beat of the ticking clock that was to signal Omar’s potential arrival.

The doorbell rang and Omar was let in. He had a seat in an adjacent room with Kauthar’s uncle, and they chatted about the important things she would not have the patience to ask. Minutes later, at the time Kauthar’s eyelid was about to stroke out, her uncle called her into the room. Her uncle was a remarkable character – he was shorter than her (naturally) but was like someone who had swallowed a boom-box: loud, exciting, and always laughing. He had a sickening twinkle in his eye as he summoned Kauthar to make her entrance. She inwardly grimaced and said to herself: get it together, it’s just a random boy to add to the arsenal. Oh yeah, and bismillah.

She entered the room as graciously as she possible could – which was not very gracefully considering she was a bona fide klutz wearing a too-long skirt. She managed however, to walk those few feet and sit down on the sunken couch without major incident. Phew.

The boy, oh the boy was ridiculously bearded – so much so that it covered about 60% of his face she estimated. He was sitting directly across from her and seemed almost too shy to look up when she greeted him. He had the audacity to wear jeans and a vertically striped shirt that was open at the collar. This dude should’ve dressed up Kauthar thought, amused at his inability to look her square in the face. Sure, the beard covered 60% but there was definitely a pink flush to his cheeks. Suddenly Kauthar was very comfortable now that she knew she had the upper hand. She chuckled to herself and felt her eye stop twitching almost on demand.

Kauthar decided to attack Omar with her first question, feeding off of his discomfort: So Omar, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself.

They talked about nothing and everything, and Kauthar let herself notice that the boy had a deliciously sweet and easy smile. His eyes were searching, trying to make sense of what he was hearing and seeing. They focused under raised eyebrows when Kauthar asked puzzling questions, and became pleasingly narrow when he laughed at any one of her numerous ludicrous comments. His gestures mimicked hers – a subconscious indication of interest.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kauthar could see her uncle smiling mischievously as though he knew something he would never disclose.

2010-07-31T02:00:00.000-04:00

I'll never forget my mom's face when she walked into my room last Friday and said "your brother is in intensive care."

He had made a trip to the emergency room earlier in the day with a lot of pain, but I just assumed it was because he had a bad fever for a week prior to being admitted to the hospital. A few hours later we got a call from my dad, who had taken him to the hospital, to tell us things were a lot more serious than we thought.

I can't describe to you the few days that followed - guilt, pain, shock, fear. Seeing someone so young, tall/hefty and healthy lying in a bed unable to even move onto his side; it's indescribable. It really is a pain that words can never adequately describe. It's so humbling to see the weakness in someone who has always been so strong - it reminds me that Allah (swt) is the Only One who is Al-Qawi, the Supremely Strong. The rest of creation is at His will.

My parents were (and are) at his side all the time, and I can't imagine the anguish parents must feel, seeing their child in such a compromised position. I think their hair has gotten whiter and their wrinkles deeper. What pain could I ever feel that would be comparable to theirs?

The doctors said he might not make it til morning, then they said he might lose the use of his legs completely. But a week later he's recovering slowly but surely - alhamdulillah, all praise is due to Allah, Al-Wahhab, the Greatest Bestower of gifts and blessings.

I can't help but think how close all of us are to death, but how little we've actually prepared for it.

Because apparently I have even more time on my hands than I thought...

2010-07-22T16:47:00.000-04:00

Anyone interested in following my pithy attempts at staying healthy, feel free to check out my new blog: http://myfatnessdiary.blogspot.com/

It's like Randomly Placed, but fatter.

This is Eating Out

2010-07-19T20:53:00.000-04:00

I'm the kind of person who will take a can of tuna with me to someplace that is crowded, pull out a manual can-opener, and eat it straight out of the can with a fork. To the chagrin and shame of those who are in my company.

I have not yet mastered the art of taking a pot of food out with me like some ingenious families do.

What?

Reinventing Asmaa

2010-07-16T21:23:00.001-04:00

Since graduating from my Masters, I've been trying to figure out how to reinvent myself.

I'm no longer satisfied with the concept of just being a one dimensional being. I can't be contented with looking for a job and sending countless cover letters and resumes to people and places I'm barely interested in reading about, let alone working for/at. Most of all, I'm afraid to lead a life of irrelevance.

That is actually my greatest fear: to live and die without leaving any mark on this earth. You see, to have lived for nothing is akin to having not really existed.

I began my social work program because this fear had a stronghold on me. It gripped me in a way that I didn't understand up until now. And I truly believed that my field would enable me to make a difference in people's lives - it would help me feel relevant again.

Looking back on this mentality, I realize how flawed my entire thinking process was. It'll never be a field of practice or theory or a methodology that makes you relevant and memorable. It's you.

YOU make your field memorable. Not vice versa! I can live a life of relevance and beauty in so many different ways that I'm trying hard to narrow them down. If I can make my field of work relevant, that means I can make other fields and theories and methodologies and practices relevant, too!

Interestingly enough, historically we have admired those who break out of the mould and defy what's normally seen as "meaningful" work.

Which brings me to my final point - I want to reinvent myself because I don't fit into a mould. That's why I've been having trouble finding my footing and often feeling confused and unsure of how to be a catalyst for change.

I've got news for you. I make the mould.

why i'm fat

2010-07-16T01:25:00.002-04:00

One day my little sister found me standing in the kitchen with a blank face, not doing anything. This is how the conversation went:

Nusaybah: "why are you just standing in the kitchen?"
Asmaa: "I'm not sure. I feel like I have unfinished business."

American Apparel's Beauty Code

2010-07-12T22:30:00.001-04:00

Well then, I wonder what American Apparel would say about Hijabs.

on the nutritional value of coke zero

2010-07-08T19:24:00.001-04:00

This is a pretty rose I got from a wedding.

I decided to put it in a bottle of Coke Zero instead of a vase.

This is the rose after a couple of days in said Coke Zero.

I conclude that Coke Zero will eventually kill you (perhaps in the night). So stop drinking it.