Blah blah blaaahhhhhhh

Random thoughts on my mind:

 

• I hate how once you’re tagged as “religious” every word out of your mouth is seen as preaching. Any opinion you offer is seen as an attempt to convert people. You, however, as a religious and therefore ignorant, narrow-minded, ass-backwards individual are subjected to the double-standard that is the modern-day education system and all and sundry’s opinions are shoved down your preaching throat. And don’t you dare, not for a second, consider retaliating with an opinion! ‘Cause then you’d be preaching and, God forbid, imposing on other people’s space… and so the cycle is perpetuated.
• I try to ponder the situation in the middle east and all I get is static silence. My brain has nothing. Painful hope and overwhelming fear fill me, but no coherent thought.
• I Can Not Live Without A Car. Repeat: CAN NOT LIVE. As in DIE.
• Exercise and I have become somewhat separated… and by somewhat I mean I haven’t stepped foot in the gym in about five months. No wait. I lie. I went once… half an hour of panting on the treadmill and I had to drag my sorry, abused butt out of there to cry in the car. This is not good. Not Good. At All.
• Housekeeping? I don’t like it. I cook, and I cook quite well. But laundry? Bathrooms? Floors? Shoot me. It would be the less painful of the two.
• Victoria’s secret is opening up in Calgary… the real-deal not that preteen Pink store. And I can’t figure out when. I die.
• Everybody asks how marriage is. It’s fine, it’s wonderful, it’s great – and I’m not just saying that. Yes we misunderstand-argue-clash-claw-tear up-apologize-profess our endless love-and repeat quite a bit, and yes there are times when I want to headdesk the bejezuz outta my brain but it’s worth every damn second because we’re doing it together and it’s forever, inshaAllah.
• Marriage is good for the bank account. Forget what everyone says, I’ve saved more money since I tied the knot than I ever have in my 22 years before marriage.
• Which reminds me. I’m turning 23. I don’t know why that seems so old.

And I’m out! Have a meeting to plan Calgary’s 2011 Women’s Eid Banquet! Great initiative. Great stuff.

Winter Wan

Every winter, every single goddamned winter, I turn the colour of…. well, the dead comes to mind, but to be a little more flattering, I’d have to say wallpaper paste. Or a sick person… who’s been chained to a gurney in a basement, 3000 meters below ground and whose skin has not been exposed to the light of day in a good three years and who steadfastly avoids vegetables, meat, and really anything and everything of nutritional value. That’s me. Only lucky me, I don’t have to go through the painful process in order to achieve the end result. I come by it au naturale. Plus I’m anemic, no matter how hard I try not to be. I assure you, the end result is not pretty.

Could self-tanning possibly the answer? Tanning salons? The risk of skin-cancer in exchange for one winter ONE WINTER during which I don’t have to assure everyone who sees me that no, I’m not sick nor have I been diagnosed with a terminal illness, nor am I avoiding food in hopes of maintaining my weight, NOR do I not exercise?

I don’t know. But I take comfort in the fact that since there’s a cartoon about it, I’m obviously not alone.

Burn baby, burn

disclaimer: this is, by no means, a religious post. Rather, it’s an interpretation of certain events.

There are certain things in life that make us see red. Where we can, quite literally, feel our blood boil, our vision haze, and are overcome by an overwhelming urge to rip into something. Well, at least I hope it’s ‘we’ and not just ‘me’ but either way it’s there, and when it rears its malicious head, you best stay out of my way.

That doesn’t happen all that often. Or perhaps all too often depending on your point of view. Injustice is one. Blind, stubborn ignorance. Racism. JEALOUSY, thuma jealousy, thuma al-jealousy!!

I was talking to a friend of mine, and she just bought everything rushing back. The hatred and the pointless, selfish jealousy yeah sure, but mostly the horrible affects you have to deal with and clean up after when they’re done with you. Let me explain.

But first, there’s a need to differentiate between the types of jealousy, I think. There’s the “Omg, I wish I could be as good/successful/etc as so and so, mashAllah!” This is productive jealousy. It’s good because you’re striving to be a better person using another someone else as a role model, and you’ve said mashAllah, which protects said someone.

The second is benign jealousy. This one is tricky. It can turn malicious at any second. An example would be “I wish I had that car!” Notice the lack of mashAllah. Not good, not good at all. But at the same time, you’re not actively wishing them harm; rather you just want what they have.

The third is straight malicious jealousy. “Bitch! What has she done to deserve that car? Burn and die, hoebag.” Pretty much self-explanatory. This is when one wants something some one else has, and actually wishes that person didn’t have it, or loses it in some painful/humiliating manner.

Now, I consider myself somewhat of an expert on the affects of jealousy. My grandma used to tell me I have a weak star. Translate: it means I’m more susceptible to the ‘evil eye’ than others. Now, I’m not going to get into the evil eye discussion. Suffice to say I believe nothing can harm or benefit you expect what Allah (swt) wills (yeah, I’m a predestined-ite), and that to ward it off there are certain things it’s your responsibility to do: specific ayas, dua’as you should read.

But, and this is a big but, that does not excuse those goddamned people who insist on harming others through their jealousy.

Examples? I have many, but here are ones that come foremost to mind:

1. “You rented a car?? But you’ve been in the city for less than a week! My, you sure work fast!”
   Result: Kitchen burns down later in the day
2. “You rented another car right after the first? You sure don’t wait before spending all your money, eh?”
   Result: Car accident in said rented car. Opponents: Our VW Golf vs a semi-truck. Not. Fun.
3. At work, my coworkers are in awe of my typing speed. They call teachers in from other departments to witness. All teachers start to come to me to type up their assignments/work rather than the people who get paid to do it. “Miss. S&S, you think you can walk in here, at 19, and just because you’re Canadian become a grade 6 teacher and take away my job?”
   Result: Over the weekend, I burnt two fingers, sprained three, had the door slammed on my left hand, and fell down the stairs, scraping two of the fingers on my right hand raw. I’m not exaggerating. I wish I was.
4. The most eligible bachelor in my Dad’s village asks me to marry him. Due to familial pressure (I’m threatened with bodily harm and ghadab (hate for life kind of thing) from my grandmother) I decide to give the guy a chance.
   Result: The day after I met him, I spend five days heaving till I vomit blood.
5. Day before our midterm: “You barely study and yet manage to get better grades than I do. I spend all night reviewing, that’s so unfair.”
   Result: day of our midterm I wake up sick as a dog, barely make it to class, fail the test.
6. “I love the way you dress.”
   Result: trip down stairs, breaking the heel on my boot and scraping my right hand raw (again).

There are more, but this is getting me pissed off all over again. Then you have those who, because you’re doing something they don’t have the dedication or balls to step up and do, belittle you, degrade you, and give you the worst time of it.

Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to stop. Whoever the heck you are, you’re going to be satisfied with what you have, and leave everyone else the hell alone. Jeez. And I, I’m going to pray to the good Lord that you learn to leave others the heck alone.

Even the Prophet said: “Jealousy eats up faith (good deeds) like fire burns dry wood.”

So, really, you’re actually benefitting your conceited self if you’d just leave everyone alone.

You feel me?

I’m Gonna Break the Cycle

Assiya Rafiq, right, in front of her mother, Iqbal Mai.

And I’m not talking about Madonna here.

As a Syrian and a Muslim it pains me to say this. But, there is an Arabic proverb that says “you see the sliver in other peoples’ eyes, yet fail to see the pole in your own.” So, just because I’d rather not be own of ‘those people’ I’m going to say it like it is.

By this day and age, everyone has heard of those horrific honour killings. Your daughter, sister, mother disgraces you and your family? Off with their head! Forget that there’s a God involved here, or a shariaa law that – as a Muslim – you’re bound to obey, or even basic concepts like humanity and familial ties.

When I first moved to Syria, a video was circulating depicting the public beating and killing of a woman. Oh Allah. My cousins held me down and forced me to watch. I’m not going to go into details but those images will be with me to my dying day. Thank God there is a God who will see that justice is meted out in the end, because we live in one cruel world!

It’s so sickening. When you hear of these people who contrary to everything they should know as humans and as muslims, acting in cruel, heartless ways. Don’t they fear God?? What goes around will come around… Ya Allah!

What bought this to mind was the story of Assiya Rafiq. Assiya Rafiq was kidnapped at the age of 16 and repeatedly raped and beaten by a group of thugs. A year later, once they’d had their fill, they delivered her to a police station. Unfortunately, salvation and peace were a long time coming, and Assiya was subjected to rape by the four police officers.

This all took place in Pakistan. Now, in Pakistan, the only option available to a woman who has undergone the shame of rape is to commit suicide. That was she cleanses herself and her family name. Never mind that she is innocent, or that suicide is FORBIDDEN in Islam.

But this particular woman isn’t having any of that. She’s fighting the system, demanding to have her rights recognized and the men who raped her prosecuted.

I’m in awe of her bravery. When I was in Syria, I faced that cultural wall quite a few times, when culture dictated I do something completely contrary to my beliefs. And even though it wasn’t something as oppressing and merciless as rape, I still felt as though I were being backed into the proverbial corner. It was not a pleasant experience. Some days I stuck by my beliefs. Others a faltered. May God give her the strength to see this through and break that damn cycle!

(source)

On Chinese Stereotypes

Picture this: an Arab working for a Chinese roofing company. What I mean by Chinese roofing company though isn’t that the roofs are redone in an Oriental manner but rather the owners of the company are Chinese. Who speak about ten words of English between the three of them.

Now as a first generation adult, my brother’s cool with that. He likes these guys and they like him – they’re teaching him Chinese and he’s teaching them English. They even gave him Chinese tea – yuummm!! – and buy him Chinese food for lunch every day.

Enter an uncle who hears William’s been working for a Chinese guy. Reaction?

“I never liked the Chinese! Did you watch all those movies? They’re all two-faced! They act good but what goes on in their lives is freaky!”

*laughing because I thought he was kidding* “Why do you say that?”

*he’s dead serious* “Well, you saw their movies. Drugs, and bad sex, and gangs. Not good people.”

“You do realize those movies were directed by none other than hollywood – America? And don’t necessarily represent real Chinese people?”

“Enough already! I know them. They’re all very two faced!”

*I’m getting mad now* “But uncle, you have a daughter and a wife! You have a beard! How do you like it when other people stick us under a certain stigma or stereotype?? I want people to respect me as an individual, not as some secretive Taliban recruit with a bomb under my hijab!”

“Nonsense! We’re not like that! The media is garbage! But they are. Their movies say so. Khalas. Enough. Uncle knows best.”

Oh my God in Heaven you did not just say that! This guy is an ARAB! His daughter and wife wear the SCARF! They’ve been suffering under all those stereotypes and misconceptions for so long, and I know them personally. I know myself and the struggles I’ve faced because people are narrow-minded, biased, media-garbage guzzlers who routinely fail to exercise the grey matter between their ears!! And now this Arab who is a victim of stereotypes is actually holding prejudices against Chinese people…. because of the media!!!???

*head-desk*

Cruel irony? Or just deserts?

During my jog today 02

I haven’t gone for about two weeks what with late nights studying, volunteering, and not being able to get up in the mornings, so today I said enough was enough. We didn’t wake up in the morning, so we went at around Maghrib time, which is about 9:20. I got my sweats on, my drink on (water bottle lol), filled up gas, picked up my jogging buddy and we were off down 69th like usual.

In the morning it’s quaint. Very little traffic, and all the other pedestrians are joggers who make a point to look you in the eye and smile a ‘hello.’ It’s a greeting, encouragement, and support all rolled into a flash of teeth. The world is waking and you’re witnessing it.

At night it’s a whole other world. That time of day is my favorite. A lot of people say sunrises are beautiful, alluding to fresh beginnings. But I’ve always been a sunset girl. Dusk is when I come to life, when the air fills with anticipation, the skies darken, the world comes to life in a dizzying array of colours. It’s fleeting though, close you’re eyes and open them and in that swift second the world has changed.

So there we were, collapsed on the curb  near my car in a parking lot, drinking water like it was going out of style, and discussing stand up comedians, of all things. When this car drives by twice, the first time zooming by, then slower for a closer look, with this white kid gaping at us. It parks a distance away, does  a U turn and comes in for one more go, this time outside the parking lot, on 69th. He leans out, screams a very eloquent “FUCK YOU,” and revs off.

By this time it’s full dark, and my friend was getting kind of antsy. It’s Sunday night and Calgary’s dead, or at least this area is. But why the hell should I?? Jugding by the look I got of the kid, he’s younger than I am! I was, quite literally,  here first and I’m not moving till I’m damn well good and ready to move!

After the spurt of anger, it was emptiness. These encounters, while rare, always leave me drained of hope. And soooo confused! Ugh.  I will never, ever understand racism or prejudice.

Alhamdulillah for the life I lead, which has taught me respect and tolerance above all else.

…

Ugggghhhhhhhhhhh

Kk, all better now =)

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.

Does my butt look big in this?

Whether you’ve heard of, asked, or – God help you – replied to this question, everyone’s familiar with it. And it’s univeraly known that a ‘yes’ will not be met well.

So what do you do if you notice your boo packing on the poundage? How on earth do you get her to a) notice and, more importantly, b) actually do something about it? As in getting the message – don’t think for a second I’d want the damn milk if it’s coming from a fat ass cow – across in a way that won’t guarantee the immediate termination of your relationship – and thus milk privileges. What a predicament! 

But don’t get your tighty whities in a knot just yet, because Askmen, God bless their anorexic-lovin’ hearts, who are constantly and dedicatedly striving to better your ball-scratching ways, have foreseen such a dilemma and come to the rescue with their  Top 10: Subtle Ways To Tell Her She’s Getting Fat. (I kid you not)

No.10 – Buy her clothes that are too small

No.9 – Sign her up for yoga under the pretence of “stress relief” 

No.8 – Set out on your own weight loss plan

No.7 – Serve her unsatisfactory portions 

No.6 – Improve your own diet

No.5 – Playfully grab her love handles

No.4 – Ask her to wear an old dress

No.3 – Sabotage her chair

No.2 – Leave “now” and “then” photos lying around. 

No.1 – Take her to places where she has to wear a swimsuit.

Does anyone else see a problem with this? Because while I may have certain feminist leanings, I’m not nit-picky with it (case in point: saying ‘you guys’ or ‘(occupation)man’ does not get my woman’s lib panties in a knot) mainly because I have bigger fish to fry. And besides, women who are hung up on it sort of scare me. All that ranting and obsessing about the inequalities and sexification (b.k.a. sexual objectification) of women, why not just shut up and – here’s a thought! – do something about it! 

But this? This makes me want to hurl. Or find Thomas Foley, author of this particular literary gem, and rid the world of his misogynistic, neanderthalic ass. 

Ahhhh. Instant satisfaction.

If you really want to read in more detail, I’ve included the link. Be warned: if possible the paragraphs and explanations underneath surpass the headings in complete and utter idiocy. Almost all include deception and/or manipulation and attempts at shaming her into losing weight. And the pictures? En-freaking-joy.

SOL: Screaming Out Loud

A few, short months after the Gazan Massacre of 2008 – 2009, and apparently the Israeli Army morale is flagging. So what better way to get the boys’ spirits back in shape than with a few imaginative T-shirts?

I feel sick. Like I’m about to hurl my dinner all over my keyboard – sorry for the visual. What kind of sick minds come up with shit like this? Takes ‘heartless’ to a whole new level…

But where is the outrage? Or, at least, the shocked looks? The head-shaking, the continued breeding and strengthening of stereotypes, the reactions?? Or do those reactions only apply when some bearded fool is screaming “death to infidels!!” while brandishing his fist in some shady clip, the origins of which are obscure at best?

Sickening. Ladies and gents, the results of the creative minds of the IDF’s finest:

The smaller, the harder

Better use Durex

1 Shot 2 Kills

And the worst part? It’s a cycle with no end in sight. Tit for tat. This is the youth of Israel. Hate and racism that know no bounds. And no doubt the youth of Palestine mirror the sentiment. Tit for freaking tat.

Disgusting world we live in, no?

So like I said:

SOL