Living for today

I’m the type of person who worries, incessantly, about the future. I don’t know how to slow down and enjoy what I have; I’m constantly focused on what I need to get done, and what I should have. An example goes like this: I wait all year to turn a certain age (20 for example) and then when I’m 20 I’m preoccupied with turning 21. I round my age up approximately one day after my birthday. So I spend 1 day being me, and 364 waiting around for the next 1 day.

The same thing generally applies to everything in my life. I need to get my drivers. I get it, enjoy it for the day, and then feel completely unsatisfied till I reach b) a car. For so long it was moving back and going to UofC and now that I’m accepted, I should be basking in it. Instead, I’m impatientely waiting for the fall, worrying about what degree/courses/major/minor etc I’ll be taking, and generally unsatisfied.

My dad finally had enough. I was discussing cars with him, and he’s like stop. Take a look at your life. Why are you always running after what you don’t have? Enjoy what you do. And he’s right. I mean, it took a while but I’m finally there. I’ve got a great job, registered to begin volunteering soon, I was accepted into UofC, I’m giving a lesson at the mosque, I have great friends, I’ve started jogging regularly again, I’ve got my license…

Turns out all that’s missing is some appreciation. I’m going to take it slow from here on in. Right now, alhamdulillah, my life is going great! So why not live for today? Enjoy the fact that I’m here and I’m me. The rest will come in time, no?

Yet another double standard

A while back the news was flooded with stories of David Carradine’s death in Thailand. The cause, the family’s grief, the ongoing investigation – the whole nine yards associated with any death. One article in particular stuck out. After a prominent Thai newspaper released photos of the Carradine’s body, there were outcries of insensitivity. How insensitive of the Thai media to publish those photos without any respect to the deceased’s family grief!

Yesterday the news focus story was on the drug cartel crisis in Mexico and how it affects American and Canadians. There have been numerous killings – eight alone yesterday – some execution style: crucification, beheadings, hangings.

How do I know this? Because I seen it. A crucified man, with a grotesque mask over his head. Another, hung by his neck off a bridge. Bodies, uncovered, strewn on the pavement. Clips of family members grieving.

I wonder if the Canadian journalists asked the grieving family members whether or not they could broadcast those photos first? And, if these were shown in America, did they ask permission?

Or do Mexicans not have the same feelings and reactions North Americans do?

Anybody would deny that. So, this begs the question: why is there a violent reaction to publishing the photos of a dead American celebrity, but not countless photos of murdered Mexican men? Why is showing photos of mutilated Mexican bodies bagging a hard hitting story, but the dead body of an American celebrity insensitivity?

This is not an isolated example. How many dead bodies do we see on the news? Both at home and abroad. If someone has a bone to pick with the media over its insensitivity, they should realize this is not a Thai problem. It’s the MO of media all over the globe… and people should look no further than their own backyards. “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” – Ghandi.

And to discriminate only generates hate…

Yesterday I went to the N.E to pick up my Successful Completion of Driving School Certificate. Anyway, I got there early and decided to kill some time at a garage sale that was right next to the driving school’s office.

So, being a) a hijab-wearing woman and b) with my very Arabic looking Dad sometime we get certain reactions. Sometimes. And sometimes it’s just because the person we’re talking to is a class A grouch, but other times it’s because… well a) I’m a hijab-wearing woman and b) my Dad is very Arabic looking.

Anyway, this garage sale was kinda like that. I kinda picked up on the vibe when I walked up, said hi, and they kinda just looked at me like “you’re not welcome here.” Giving them the benefit of the doubt – and because I had spied a stack of books and a box of CDs – I decided to stick around.

I make a bee line for the CDs, and this adorable kid comes up to me, all smiles. Can I help you? Would you like anything? This costs this much, and it’s a great deal! He’s ssoooo cute!

I end up buying a Maroon 5 CD (1 dollar! whoa yeah!!) and my dad gets some gardening thingy. I lean over to pay the kid, and thank him for being such a great help. And I notice it: he’s Jewish. More specifically, an Israel supporter. His T-shirt says something about Israel being our only home <3 <3 <3 ordained to us by God – pretty heavy stuff for a nine year old. The dad sees me eyeballing the kids T-shirt and kinda gives me The Look. Yeah, we’re Jewish. Got a problem?

No. Not in the sense that you think.

The fact is this kid is still innocent. And he’s about the same age as my brother, whom my parents have made a habit of educating the right way. Like during the siege on Gaza, he came home swearing at Jews. As in “May all Jews be dammed” in Arabic. He got it baad. My parents don’t tolerate racial intolerance, period. They took the time to sit him down and explain the difference between Jews and the Israeli administration and military, and that our conflict was only with those who refused us – or Palestinians, I should say – our rights. Not with Jews everywhere, and not even with all Israelis.

But, the fact that my brother came home saying that is evidence that other kids were taught to say it. And when I look at this kid, and his parent’s obvious negative reaction – intolerance, dislike, mistrust – of me and my faith, I can’t gelp but wonder how he’ll end up.

And I worry about the state of the world. How can we ever find a resolution if our children are taught to hate?

That’s my problem.

Licensed =D

While in Syria, I took – and passed – my drivers test. Basically you drive around a compound, label the parts of the engine, and say – word for word – the road sign descriptions. Oh, and the car is standard, you have a crowd of people – mostly guys – gawking, yelling encouragements and obscenities, and all the talking must be in formal Arabic, which I can barely understand let alone speak.

So I memorized the signs word for word – the Syrian in me came really handy: I didn’t get it, but I could say it – I learnt how to drive standard, and payed a little extra money so they’d turn a blind eye to the mechanical part of the thing. Because they teach you on a built engine, and then test you on one that’s been pulverized into itty bitty metal and rubber pieces. And for someone who used location to memorize (the crankcase is on top of the… timing chain!) I was soooo screwed over. 

So drive around the city for fifteen minuets? Parallel park with no car behind me? 

HAH! 

I’ve had to squeeze my car in a space literally the size of it. That was nothing. 

No, I was more concerned with not speeding (but the road is empty!) and giving the right of way to other people. Oh and using signals, obeying traffic signs, stopping at a yellow light, not weaving, proper lane changing, and just about any thing that involves following a rule or regulation. 

Yeah. It kinda turns out I’ve picked up a ton of nasty habits. 

Butt…. regardless of all that: I PASSED!! 

Yay =)

 

It’s raining, it’s pouring!!

….bring june showers….. 

=)

Giving back

Now that I’ve finished bragging then, about the lesson. =P

Before we moved to Syria, my mum was the resident Muslimah Youth Group leader (was it YMC? Young Muslimahs of Calgary?). Anyway, I’m not just saying this because she’s my mom, but she was, hands down, one of the kindest, most compassionate, and articulate teachers I have ever had the pleasure of listening to. She changed my life. Actually, she’s pretty much an amazing woman period. Allah yerziha kel khair, inshAllah. 

Anyway, fast-forward about six years (I’m now in Syria) and I meet this other amazing lady. And I’m thinking to myself: for all you had it pretty shitty in CIS, things are going good these days! The topics are gripping, my faith is rising, and my life is now full of strong Muslim women I can learn from and hopefully emulate. And I realize that after, alhamdulillah, being the recipient of so many great lessons and advice, maybe it’s time a give back a bit.

“You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” – Mahatma Gandhi

I want to see unity, pride, understanding, cooperation, strength. So why not be the first step then, inshAllah?

So there was a sister giving Friday lessons in Calgary at the SW mosque, but she had to leave… right when I came. I already had a vague idea of starting a support group for young Muslim women. A sort of safety net, I guess. Or even a discussion group. A place where we were accepted, no questions asked, where we could grow and learn and cry and laugh and be ourselves. 

So this sister leaves and I suggest to a good friend of mine, Maria, that we do it. Each week we prepare something – doesn’t have to be perfect or long – and talk and discuss. So she said I should do it, and one thing led to another and I did! 

And it wasn’t, by any means, perfect. My tongue was tied, I made mistakes and umm made an extensive appearance that night, but I was so happy! I am so happy! If we can stick together, if we can unite, can you imagine how much stronger we would be? In our faith? In our lives???

Anyway, the reviews came back pretty positive, so I’ll be doing next week! Don’t tell them, but I’ve already prepared half of it, lol. Yes, I have that much to say. And now that I’ve managed to find people willing to listen, I’m not going to be shutting up anytime soon!

my dubious culinary skillz

So my culinary abilities are renowned. In the sense that I absolutely LACK any. If desperate, I could possible make something edible – in the sense that you won’t die afterwards from food poisoning. But enjoying any meal I may make is, unfortunately, out of the question. 

Coupled with my hectic and full schedule, my Dad – love him to death – has taken over the kitchen. But enough is enough – for both him and myself since all he makes is RICE *shudder* – and I decided to give it a go. I pulled up a recipe, went to Superstore and an hour in the kitchen later, it was good! Actually, it was better than good. It was excellent!!

I cooked some chicken chow mien and GOD was it amazing. 

So today I have off but tomorrow, I’m going to try my hand at honey garlic chicken.

Oh! And I actually snapped a photo. Yes, I’m that deliriously proud that I made something I enjoyed eating, rather than forced down my throat in a pitiful attempt to prove to my family that yes, it is edible and no, it won’t kill you! My dad found that hilarious. 

Yumm! Me + Chinese food  = <33

I didn’t get to eat any till about 3 hours later though, since I had to give a lesson at the mosque that night! Very hungry teacher I was. And yes, I can see that the long beans are kind of burnt. But it’s only kind of, which is a VAST improvement on all previous attempts.

I am Sheba!

FINALLY. 

After weeks of anticipation – more actually if you consider my desperate need to attend a conference of any sort in English – it was finally time. I did it! I attended the Release Your Inner Queen of Sheba by Heba Alshareef, jazaha Allahu kel khair. 

To sum it up in as few words as possible, I’d say it was eye-opening. Life-altering. It forces you to realize your potential. To face yourself, and bring yourself to task. There really is no room for self-deception, or shyness at a conference like that. 

And it was empowering! God, did I leave that room desperately optimistic. Hoping against hope. 

Can I do this? Can I face myself?

Well I took the first two steps. I attended the workshop, and I bought the book. And perhaps most importantly, I was honest with myself – sometimes brutally so – today. InshAllah. Only time will tell!

72 hours to save myself!

Failed Robbery Ends in a Pledge to Islam???

New York – Role reversal at gun point: After an attempted robbery of a store near New York City, the owner showed generous mercy instead of calling the police.

The thief came charging into the convenience store in Long Island shortly before closing armed with a baseball bat and demanded money, according to the security videotape broadcast Wednesday on US television.

As the store owner, Mohammad Sohail, pulled out a rifle – it wasn’t even loaded – the would-be thief collapsed to his knees.

‘He started begging,’ Mohammad Sohail, the store owner, told television crews. The thief said ‘I got no money, my family hungry,’ Sohail said.

Sohail gave the thief bread and 40 dollars, and the masked thief said, ‘I want to be a Muslim just like you,’ Sohail told CNN.

Sohail performed a brief naming ceremony to declare him a Muslim, then gave him 40 dollars and some bread.

But while he went to fetch a jug of milk, the man had vanished.

Sohail said he did not intend to press charges against the would- be thief. (source)

Holy God! That is crazzzzyy!

But honestly, what an example to us all. Sometimes we get so caught up in the aggressive, individualistic, materialistic, selfish, etc, etc, nature of life these days we lose touch with the simple things, the things that bind us together: compassion, empathy, caring. 

Sohail seemed so good-hearted about it! He said that he emphasized with the man, and his plight. And he gave him bread and 40 dollars. The man then said that he was inspired and wanted to be just like him. He asked to convert, and Sohail had him recite the shahada (I witness that there is no God but God and Muhammed is His messenger). 

Now, put all your cynicism aside – I know I had plenty negative thoughts – and realize: Sohail made a difference. He changed someone. He taught someone something. He made a difference!

How many of us can say that?

And what really had me laughing was that it came directly after the announcement that Osama Bin Laden *cough cough* declared Obama was continuing the Bush era. And then this: something that kinda makes you realize: guess what? we’re human too. *smile*

Yay =)

To Shake Or Not To Shake

After about three weeks of applying just about any and every where, my motto kinda being ‘will work for anything morally sound,’ a got a call back! The Oxford Learning Center FINALLY sent me an email, and I went for my interview!!

So, as is usual in Canada, I was faced with a dilemma: To Shake Or Not To Shake. That is the question. Do I refuse to shake hands, stand by my moral and religious principles and risk losing a job? Or do I shake hands, land the job and avoid my spineless self in the mirror for the next two weeks? I don’t shake, in general, but I’ve caved a few times: i.e walking the stage during grade 12. This may sound stupid and pointless to some, but today? Today it was tough.

Because while I was waiting in the foyer, I was engrossed in a conversation with My Material and My Moral half, a la Gollum. 

Material Me: Remember that guy in Britain? He lost his job. 
Moral Me: But do we really want a job where they don’t respect us?
Material Me: Correction: do we really want a job. Period. No one else called, idiot. There is no other job.
Moral Me: But…
Material Me: Besides, it’s only a handshake. People here don’t read too much into it….
Moral Me: And this is only a piece of material, is that what you’re telling me?
Material Me:  No Subway…
Moral Me: Noo…
Material Me: No Edo… 
Moral Me: No! Not Edo!
Material Me: No cute DKNY shoes…
Moral Me: K, you’re the one that wanted those, not me.
Material Me: My precious!
Moral Me: Focus, idiot. To Shake Or Not To Shake, remember? Moral dilemma in T minus 5 mintues.
Material Me:  Easy. Shake.
*pause*
Moral Me: But there’s that hadeeth….
Material Me: Oh. Em. Gee. Not the hadeeth. I beg…
Moral Me: He who pleases people instead of God…
Material Me: blah blah blah… 
Moral Me: God will be displeased with him and make others displeased with him. But he – or she – who pleases God will be pleased with him, and make others pleased with him. Hence,
Material Me: Who on earth says hence these days? See that is why we don’t have a job… or life… and why we blog about things like this… I hate you. I wish my other half was My Party-Animal half.
Moral Me: *talking louder… in my head* If I don’t shake God will be pleased with me, and make this guy pleased with me, which means hellooooo Subway!
Material Me:  I bet you a Subway sandwich we’re screwed.

So after about 15 minutes of deep, intellectual conversation with none other than myself, I walk in and oddly enough, he doesn’t extend his hand. Half way into the conversation I mention that I volunteer at the mosque and will be giving a kinda speechy thing there, and go on to explain what a mosque is. 

His response? ”Don’t worry. I know. I’m Muslim.” *smile*

Yay!!! So I didn’t shake, I got the job, AND I think I got the hasnat because I’d already decided not to shake.  So life is pretty darn gooooooood today!

And my material half owes me a Subway sandwich. *evil laugh* take THAT.