hair with a scent of jasmine

the world has enough cowardly romantics.

we live in a society without time for people.

the question is, what destiny do you want.

you will never have enough time, you will never have enough money, you will never have enough support to do the things that need to be done. therein lies the struggle for nobility.

why does one have to struggle so hard to acquire knowledge that's of any quality?

for those hours, i disappeared off the face of the earth.

pumped full of vicatin you realize a few things about life.
life beyond time. or time beyond life.

it's easier to be a consistent, focused, productive person enveloped in your comfort zone. people like that - the world plugs into their roles in life. they are the nice, stable, dependable people you trust to become doctors and engineers.

the price of pushing yourself to the edge where it burns - is risk. chaos. radioactivity. i believe i am radioactive. a radioactive muslim.

you shouldve married the turk. life is easier when you're disciplined and militaristic. but maybe not when you're living in east london...

is there no one who views you as a whole person? we are constantly playing up different regions of our identity among different friends. and too often one's purpose is to be a bridge between contending people.

there is no tarbiya in mainstream education.

if you want something from this world, you have to compromise some of your beliefs. and the only beliefs i'm willing to compromise are those that emanate from the nafs (ego). inconveniently, they are also the hardest to subdue.

it hurts to realize that you're the kind of person who, if given the responsibility to save the world, would only manage to salvage a mere flower from the writhing planetary wreckage.

the "exile gene" runs in the family.

my humor only reigns in the realm of fantasy.

martyrdom tactics follow the stench of failure.

the ummah owes me nothing.

i live in a trash can. my name is oscar the grouch. GROUCH! no, really,
i live under my landlady's coffee table. because...i'm such a coward.

people grow more and more inaccessible as they get older. their time becomes more exclusive. i hate that feeling of experiencing it and being guilty of it.

suppress the instinct to crush the heart.

you're always creating a list of things you want to talk about but dont know when it'll ever be appropriate to discuss.

they hate it when they don't know what you're thinking. i bet it makes them feel insecure.

just lie down and watch the world spin.

i realize i'm not as intelligent as i once thought i was. i yearn for the elusive refined truth but too often catch myself mesmerized by lower-level observations.

my thoughts are consistently an inconsistent muddle

people are comprised of sentiments that took two seconds to form but whose effects are enduring

my wish is to prove to myself that memories have value. they will not wash away with time. at least film can preserve dreams in material form for a while. but ultimately, i know they too will perish.

i tend to blame everything on capitalism and its parasitic tendencies. though i know in moderation it's actually quite islamic.

quiet panic is not healthy.