Time to Decide

Decisions, decisions, decisions. "Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide." - Napolean Bonaparte.

I never thought I was an indecisive person. But when in school, I didn't have to decide on much. Maybe what courses I wanted to take, whether to apply for masters or not, what to eat for lunch, etc. Now that I'm out of school, I'm suddenly forced to become an adult when I doubt I'm ready to be one.

Sometimes I just wish someone else could make my decisions for me. (Not in the "Jesus take the wheel" way, but you know what I mean.)

Choosing to Think of It

Today, ten thousand people will die
and their small replacements will bring joy
and this will make sense to someone
removed from any sense of loss.
I, too, will die a little and carry on,
doing some paperwork, driving myself
home. The sky is simply overcast,
nothing is any less than it was
yesterday or the day before. In short,
there's no reason or every reason
why I'm choosing to think of this now.
The short-lived holiness
true lovers know, making them unaccountable
except to spirit and themselves--suddenly
I want to be that insufferable and selfish,
that sharpened and tuned.
I'm going to think of what it means
to be an animal crossing a highway,
to be a human without a useful prayer
setting off on one of those journeys
we humans take. I don't expect anything
to change. I just want to be filled up
a little more with what exists,
tipped toward the laughter which understands
I'm nothing and all there is.
By evening, the promised storm
will arrive. A few in small boats
will be taken by surprise.
There will be survivors, and even they will die.
-- Stephen Dunn

Finding a Path

Check out Calla's new photo gallery called "Finding a Path"...

Click the left-hand menu that says "documentary," then you'll find it. You might recognize some people :)

A note that I have to include: if you're going to check out some of her other photo documentaries, there are ones that include nudity, so consider yourself warned!

Let me tell you a story...

(pardon the blurry photos, these pics are taken with my phone, and I have yet to master the art of holding it still while snapping!)

Once upon a time, there was a very naughty bus. While his driver was trying to fix him, the bus decided to run away.

He ran along the road beside a train. They made funny faces at each other and raced each other. But the bus had to go on alone because the train went into a tunnel. He hurried into the city where he met a policeman who blew his whistle and shouted, "Stop, bus!"

But the naughty bus paid no attention and ran on into the country. He said, "I'm tired of going on the road," so he jumped over a fence. He met a cow who said, "moo! I can't believe me eyes!"

The bus raced down a hill. As soon as he saw there was water at the bottm, he tried to stop, but he didn't know how to put on his brakes. So he fell into the pond with a splash and stuck in the mud! When the driver found where the bus was, she telephoned for a tow truck to pull him out, and put him back on the road again.

The end.

Did you like the story? Lots of 3-5 year olds nearly die laughing when I tell them about the bus and his misdemeanors. And some of them stare at me blankly.

Okay, let me give you some context so you don't think I'm a complete nutcase. I'm doing this temporary research position that involves gauging little kids' grammar, vocab, and reading comprehension. The bus story is one of the stories we tell them to see how much they understand. So I work in two schools in the TDSB. It's pretty interesting because there are basically no white children in either of the schools. At all. Sometimes my coworkers and I will go into the playground at recess and play "spot the white kid." It's interesting for the first 30 seconds, until you realize no one can win.

Kids are great. Well most of them anyways. We give out stickers to bribe them to be good while we test them right...so one 3 year old insisted that I put a butterfly sticker on her nose. So I did. And then there are other kids who can't speak English at all. They like talking to me in their native tongues, and they repeat words over and over, thinking that I'm stupid for not understanding them. But yeah, I've come to the conclusion that kids are such interesting little human beings.

Finally, the piece de resistance. Meet Sivathepan: he licks himself beckus he is smart. Ahh, kids.

Exciting News

Today I found a cookie in the shape of a heart. If you look closely, you just might be able to see Elvis, a goat, and a lion in a boat on Lake Ontario.

stuff de duff duff duff

This Ramadan has been tough for me. For some reason it's harder to fast these days and I've been getting easily frustrated with things and people. Or rather, I've been tested in so many little ways. I always assumed that the more years you fast, the easier it gets. But it doesn't work that way.

Updates with me...working temporarily, looking for a permanent job. Taking in Ramadan, being disappointed at the lack of colour on the trees this fall, writing poetry in my mind but never getting it on a piece of paper, trying to learn how to be more patient (why is it so hard?) and grateful. And making dua that there is something better for me in the near future. It feels good to put your full trust in Someone besides yourself.

Yeah :) I will make it my objective to post something substantial soon.

Baggy Pants Offend White Folks

I was furious when I read this article in the Toronto Star the other day. Here's an excerpt:

Proposals to ban saggy pants are starting to ride up in several places. At the extreme end, wearing pants low enough to show boxers or bare buttocks in one small Louisiana town means six months in jail and a $500 (U.S.) fine. A crackdown also is being pushed in Atlanta. And in Trenton, N.J., getting caught with your pants down may soon result in not only a fine, but a city worker assessing where your life is headed.

"Are they employed? Do they have a high school diploma? It's a wonderful way to redirect at that point," said Trenton Councillor Annette Lartigue, who is drafting a law to outlaw saggy pants. "The message is clear: We don't want to see your backside."

Besides the mind-numbing wordplay, where are human beings on the evolutionary scale when we have to fine people and throw them in prison for dressing a particular way? You think it's about decency and modesty that they're doing this? Think again. It's clear that the folks over in New Jersey feel that sagging pants are an indication of unemployment and high drop-out rates. They are also targetting only a certain population with this new law. Namely, young black men. It's no wonder that there's unemployment and school drop-out rates in a city that is so biased against the black population. Perhaps policy makers need to take a few sociology courses. Or, they could just try really hard to stop being bigots. Either option would work.

I wonder that the folks in New Jersey didn't feel the need to institute a law again females wearing mini-skirts that are so mini, they show your "backside." I was downtown today and saw a female wearing an absurdly short skirt, it was like wearing nothing. Or the numerous times girls flash their thongs or wear brutally innappropriate clothes. Why is there not a law in New Jersey about that, pray tell?

The answer is clear, because white girls may dress this way, and we wouldn't want them to end up in jail for 6 months, would we? And of course, the black men will end up in jail anyways, right? So why not just put them in ahead of time? What a contradiction. This is one of the most blatant racist laws I've seen recently. And law-makers down there are trying to justify it by assuming that males who dress this way are dangerous people. They define the clothing as "an indecent, sloppy trend that is a bad influence on children."

Heaven forbid the children want to wear low pants. What they are really teaching children in the long run is that if you're white, and in power, you can make up whatever laws you want, and not care about the impact on the affected population.

I'd rather see the kids wearing pants at their knees.

Strength in Diversity

I was at the first night of tarweeh yesterday. I was in the back and I looked at the rows of women in front of me. The Somalian women and their big hijabs and colourful clothes, the younger girls wearing basketball jerseys and hoodies, babies crawling around between the rows. And then the Imam prayed witr at the end and made dua, asking Allah to forgive us in this month and accept our fasting and prayer.

And it suddenly struck me as beautiful that throughout Ramadan, every single night, these people come out for the sole purpose of worshipping God. Next time you're in your mosque, look at the rows of people and how each of them is different. From the old men in thobes to the young thug-like teens, every shade of black, brown and white. The diversity within our community is beautiful. It just adds to the amazing spirit of Ramadan; all of us being so different, yet more alike than we sometimes care to admit :)

Ramadan Mubarak.

Halal Skittles

Muslims are obsessed with halal skittles. Whenever they're in a Muslim country they come back with skittles. Whenever their friends go to Muslim countries, they ask them to bring back skittles. Skittles this, skittles that.

Back to my point, I jumped on the bandwagon (partly because of peer-pressure) and decided to bring back some halal skittles from Egypt. (See the Arabic? That proves they're halal)

I brought some back and I gave them out to some friends, who will now apparently love me forever (or until their skittles run out). So here's the deal. I have exactly one handful (see picture) of skittles left. That means 10 packs.
Today may be your lucky day because I am now auctioning them off. Meaning, make your best offer. And I expect to hear some quality offers, like maybe your first-born son.

Worthwhile Literature

I went to the library today because I could feel a rattling sound in my brain due to lack of reading. Once I was there, I got a couple of books, but it didn't seem right. Something was missing. Then I realized I hadn't read a Garfield comic book in years. So I got a couple.

My basic conclusion is that Garfield is my hero. Please do not confuse this admiration for the comic with that of the Garfield movie, which was about as entertaining as a cute baby seal stuck in a thick layer of ice.

I'm pretty sure the laziness, sarcasm, food-addiction, etc. are the reasons I love him so much. He's basically the cat version of me. On that note, my mom told me that I remind her of Garfield. And way before that, she told me I looked like Stewie, the evil baby from Family Guy.

Oh, familial love.