tired

Lightening the Burden of Adulthood on Eid

Because apparently I don't have enough things to occupy my time, I decided to make Eid loot bags.


Contents: (halal) jelly beans, gumballs, chocolate, rockets, a lollipop, and those square caramel things. The plan is to carry around a bag full of these treats and give them away to people I see on Eid day.


I feel a little bit like Santa Claus, except not as...haram. Or fat. There is only one catch, though - no children allowed.

Don't get me wrong, I like kids. But man, they hog all the attention on Eid! I always see them running around in those cute suits and dresses with lollipops, chocolate, toys, etc. But adults - nothing. We all walk around composed and calm and adult-like. This bores me. Just because we've passed the age of 18, it doesn't mean we have to stop liking the things we liked as kids. Come on, would you really pass up a roll of rockets or a lollipop on Eid?

So I'm going to brighten up the dull lives of some of my all-too-serious friends on Eid day. If you're around, you might want to track me down and get your hands on one of these :)

Is Your Mosque Packed?

'Cause mine is.

And when I say "mine," I really mean regardless of which mosque I've gone to this Ramadan, it's always overflowing with men, women, and children. Rarely are the air conditioners adequate or functional, and oftentimes oblivious mothers bring their 4 children to run and scream between rows of praying women. In fact, yesterday's taraweeh prayer was described by my mother as a "suq" (i.e. a loud marketplace). Truth hurts sometimes.

So here I am every Ramadan: standing to pray in a cramped line with one too many women, sweating, and watching little (and sometimes not-so-little) kids duck in and out of the rows as they play hide and seek around my abaya.

You'd think I'd hate it. You'd think I couldn't wait to get out of the mosque and back to 'civilized' detachment. But I dread the end of Ramadan. I want it to last and last, because amongst the slight annoyances we find at our mosques, we also find an unparalleled zeal to worship God. We come in droves to worship; regardless of age, gender, race, or religious leaning.

It's a little bewitching to know that in a week, the mosques will likely go back to their normal state of being visited only for Jum'ah prayer.

Sure, I may be idealizing, but why can't I? Ramadan makes communities happen, man. May Allah (swt) allow us to maintain the ties of community we've developed this month, and keep our minds and hearts close to Him.

ants and terror and tea

I used to take tea bags to work, so I could make tea there instead of buying a cup every day. Very economical of me.

Apparently I forgot one in my bag when Ramadan started. (As an aside, I actually dislike the word "purse"...I always refer to my "purse" as my "bag." Purse sounds so delicate and girly. I disapprove.)

Anyways, the forgotten tea bag snagged on something and covered all of my goods with little black tea granules. Which of course, I thought were ants at first - giving rise to a significant state of terror.

Then I got over it. And now I think I deserve at least a brief nap.

The end.

Top 10 Alhamdulillahs

When I feel overwhelmed with work, sometimes I take time out to make an "Alhamdulillah" list. They are not very eloquent.

1. Alhamdulillah that I woke up today with no real worries (except that I have to organize my room and stuff before school starts).

2. Alhamdulillah for the beautiful month of Ramadan, which is unprecedented in blessings and mercy from Allah (swt). Even when I go through trials of patience throughout the day, I know that when it comes time to break my fast, my stomach will smile. And when I go to pray taraweeh in congregation, my heart will be eased standing in front of my Creator.

3. Alhamdulillah for running water, which gives rise to showers that wash away the body's tense worries and furrowed brows.

4. Alhamdulillah for chocolate and all its variations. Because sometimes I just need a shot of chocolate to get me through the day - you actually can get chocolate shots here.

5. Alhamdulillah that I'm able to appear offline on gmail chat.

6. Alhamdulillah that You've helped me avoid bad things in life, even though I was ungrateful to You. Seriously, Allah (swt) has had my back in ways that were so unforeseeable that it boggles the logical mind.

7. Alhamdulillah for baby oil because it smells good. And babies like my nephew because they make my heart feel good.

8. Alhamdulillah for shib shibs so you can kill bugs that crawl into your house through open windows. Sorry little ones, but you and I can't live in peace.

9. Alhamdulillah for friends who can put a smile on your face when you're down, or give you a good kick in the pants when you're arrogant.

10. Alhamdulillah for the blessing of Islam. Otherwise, who and what would I turn to in times of need? And who and what would I turn to when my heart is happy and grateful and I need to thank someone?

Sigh, alhamdulillah.

Hints that Social Work may not be the right field for you...

If your friend drops out of dinner plans because she's not feeling well and your response to her is:

"Shut up, you're coming. Don't be a jerk...and don't make me kick you in the face."

Just sayin'

Remember when it was a wintery Ramadan? And we would, all 8 of us, get up so early for suhoor. It would be so cold that we'd crankily wrap ourselves up in blankets and shiver while eating cereal and milk and leftover dinner. Then we'd pray and fall asleep in the living room until the sunlight started peaking through the curtains. It would tug on our eyelids until they opened, and we'd trudge back upstairs to continue sleep in our beds.

And remember the crowded iftars? Us elbowing each other to see what time sunset was on the prayer chart. Then debating whether to pray or eat first. We'd always eat first. And then sprawled out on the same suhoor couches we'd lay until it was time to get ready for salah. Hours later we were yawning our way up the stairs for a few short moments of rest before having to repeat the pattern.

Our numbers slowly dwindle, and I sigh as I remember days when we were all here, growing up chaotically between meals and prayers.

ugly today

We have two public computers where I work. Tell me how a young guy comes in and starts watching porn, then gets offended when we ask him to leave, saying "I'm only human!" Keep in mind, this is a family-oriented centre.

Then when I was going home, as I was waiting for the streetcar, he had the audacity to come up to me and ask me for change. I wanted to punch him in the face.

Oh, and did I tell you about this crusty guy who was printing out a booklet with witchcraft and black magic spells? I flipped through his print-outs because he had left them there overnight.

I swear sometimes I wonder, really wonder, why I'm in this field.

Allahhul-musta'an.

Mr. Asmaa

I was recently given a prominent leadership position in an Islamic organization in Toronto. Alhamdulillah. The amount of emails I have to sift through per day is mind-boggling, but I'm surviving and loving it.

I'm going to be honest: my leadership style is slightly dictatorial. I'm a stickler for organization and professionalism, and I communicate this clearly in all of my correspondences with volunteers and board members.

I recently overruled a decision that was made by one of the core members, and communicated this by stating more or less "this decision has been made, thank you." Afterwhich a volunteer replied, calling me "Mr. Asmaa" (jokingly, I assume).

It made me laugh at first, and frankly, I took it as a compliment because it meant I was professional and straight-forward.

And then it got me to thinking, why do we automatically associate clarity/straight-forwardness with masculinity? There are a lot of reasons that I don't feel like elaborating on right now. The main point though, is that now you may refer to me as Mr. Asmaa.

Thank you.

Allah Knows

I posted this before, I'm sure. But I can't help posting it again; it's beautiful.