A manual for living life.

Dishes to clean
groceries to be bought.
Homework to be done
Teachers to bedazzle.
Mothers to please
Marinade the steak,
frost the cake
Don't forget to take a bath!
Lie in bed,
and read a book
only to keel over
and sleep.

Unknown Love

I have dreamed of you
but who you are, I don't know.
Let the mist seep away
Let the light keep your shadows at bay.

One day we'll meet
On a busy street
And we'll feel,
Our hearts reel.

But until then, my dear friend
I'll wait, lying in a glen
Watching swirls of golden dust,
Dance 'til they leave with a gust.

Feeling hated.

In case you haven't noticed yet, I'm a Muslim. And no, I don't' have any plans to take over America and "Raise the flag of Islam" over capitol hill as many extreme right wing bloggers obstinately repeat to themselves. Believe me, I have more important things to worry about...like whether my shoes and purse match. This seems like a random post, right? It's just that I'm tired of living in the shadow and not wanting to bring attention to myself. You think it's hard going through adolescent year? Imagine having the added emotional baggage in a post 9/11 world.
Any ways, back to my point, I met a girl named Sarina at my mosque on Friday, and she stressed on the point that she never hears from Muslims in the media. She mentioned that she hasn't heard Muslims condemning honor killings or terrorists. I told her that not many people are interested in hearing what Muslims have to say. I'll give you an example: Promoptly after the collapse of the twin towers, a national Muslim organization released a statement to media outlets saying that they don't condone the attacks. The news didn't publish this statement. But just for the record I ,and Islam, don't condone terrorist attacks, honor killings, abusive husbands, and every other calamity on the face of this planet.
This moves me along to another topic. I would say that not too many people in America have any idea how it's like being a muslim teenager in a post 9/11 world. Not only did I have to deal with my body going through an awkward transitional phase and wearing a headscarf in Florida, but I also had to endure rude comments and pitiying glances. That's not the worst of it. What truly proves to be the hardest part about growing up is the fact that you are held accountable for all the Muslims in the world. This may sound like an exxageration, but it's the truth. Think about it, if a Saudi man beats his wife up you bet your retirement savings that the newspapers are going to headline "MUSLIM MAN BEATS WIFE". But let's say an Italian man beats HIS wife up, you won't see The New York Times headlining THAT story with "ROMAN CATHOLIC BRUTALLY BEATS WIFE". There's a definite double standard going. Think that's just a fluke? Let me give you another example. When extreme right wing Christians bomb abortion centers is it expected of all denominations of Christianity to issue public statements denouncing that? If a drug dealer who gets thrown into jail is a jew, is it expected from National Jewish organizations to issue statements? Do newspapers even bother to mention that drug dealer's religous beliefs if he's not Muslim? As if this apparent double standard isn't enough, but young Muslim teenagers have to live with the fact that that they're expected to "denounce" all negative practices that One billion people all over the world may engage in. Do you think that's fair?
There is no political sensitivity shown towards Muslims whether it's on the news, television shows, or books. You're surrounded by it at all times. When I was sixteen, I spent religions class going through all fo the misinformation printed about Islam. When I got home to watch TV, it was Msulims this and Muslims that. When I googled Topics about Islam I came across websites promoting "Muslim proofing America" and "It's the damn liberal's fault that we have so many Muslims in the world". Even "Muslims are like a bad case of infestation, they need to be extreminated." Reading teen books wasn't a safe place either. As i'd settle myself in for some comic relief from The Princess Diarires" series, I had to endure jibes about the weak and mistreated Muslim women. Basically, I grew up in an atmosphere that made it very clear that I wasn't a welcome presence and with the knowledge that people would have an already cemented opinion of me without even talking to me. Can you imagine living a life like that?

Menopausal woman.

I live in a city.
A very boring city.
In Florida.
You're probably thinking to yourself "Gosh, she lives in Florida? That's aweseome! It's always shining in Florida and they have great oranges and she can go to Disney World anytime she wants to." Well guess what: wrong wrong WRONG. Whoever gave Florida the name of "sunshine state" obviously hasn't visited the panhandle area. It has been raining for a freaking week. I'm probably going to get depression from lack of sunshine. But you know what the worst thing about this whole situation is? My city can't decide "I'm going to be rainy today" or "I think I'm going to be windy". Ohho, she wants to make people's lives so much more difficult. One minute it's sunny, the next rainy, the next windy, and suddenly it's humid. It can’t make up it’s freaking mind! Which is why I characterize my city as a menopausal woman..you never know what you're going to get.

brotha drama. Again.

This blog is about a relatively pleasant brother of mine who is six years old. I tried to hug him today and he PUSHED me away. Excuse me little brother, but I think after six LONG years of suffering and sacrifice that I should be able to hug the little bugger. After all I had to go through torturous experience such as, oh I don't know, POTTY TRAINING. Sheesh. Is that what you really want little bro? FINE. No more hugs and kisses and when u get old and ur all alone in life don't blame me. God, little brothers are such traitors.

My brother is a ...

Why is is that when a younger sibling makes a STUPID mistake like , I don't know, slamming the refrigerator door so hard that it tips a cup full of hibiscus tea all.over. the. clean. refrigerator, the eldest is the one who has to pay the consequence? Huh? Yeah, my idiotic twelve year old brother was in SUCH a hurry today to stuff his little face with food that he tipped over red hibiscus tea that dripped all the way to the bottom of the WHITE refrigerator and onto the floor. Guess who had to stay and help him push the refrigerator around and "show" him how to clean up the mess? ME. guess who had to stay around while his royal highness escaped to the bathroom several times so he wouldn't finish his stupid chore?ME And guess who had to put up with my mom's "inquiries" as to why my lazy bum of a brother still hadn't finished cleaning up? Moi, of course.

Moral of the story: disown your younger siblings. Seriously.

Hillbilly Brian.

Ladies, Ima assume that you are ladies, I give you permission to pelt a certain someone with shoes. There's this...unsavory character in my Women's studies class. I don't know his name, but I shall call him Brian coz he seems like a Brian. He had the audacity to compare women to cars. And we ladies are certainly not cars. Would you like to know what this Mississippi pipsqueak said during class?? oh ho ho. We were talking about face lifts and why aging women felt the need to get them, when he said " Weill, I don't see the problem. It's like cars. When it gets old you trade it in for a new one." Cars? CARS? Is that the best you can come up with Brian. I'll show you cars. If women are like cars then you are like a garbage truck. And you know what else he said? We were talking about how back in the fifties, women didn't have much of a life other than being a perfect housewife who cooks while wearing high heels. And then he pipes in with the most inappropriate comment. "Weill I must be doing something wrong coz I want a girl like that. Har har." I'll tell you what you're doing wrong Brian, you're breathing and living. What kind of a woman wants to put up with your hillbilly accent and mentality? Huh? Maybe if you found a blind and deaf woman so she won't be subjected to listening to your idiotic voice and looking at your stupid face. There. Go throw shows at him. Stilettos if you can manage it.