ya allah astaghfirullah why am i an idiot? stupid stupid stupid... please grant me the intelligence and self-control and ammunition to tear shaitan to shreds ameen

haha oh somerville

from a description of my hometown on facebook:
"Drinking underage in parking lots . . . fights in the playground all the time . . . the Orange Line . . . kicking the sh*t out of Meffa pansies who think up "clever" variations on your hometown name like they don't come from the ghetto . . . answering to your last name only from the age of six . . . yeah, you survived Somerville, baby."

arabic 101 notebook side-notes

t-shirt quotes:

"it sounds like gibberish" - emily flitter

"gabl gible giblt Gibraltar!"

"Can I have this manuscript?" (turkish) - emily or jenn

::translating:: "mutton, chicken, fish and cow..." -sarah a.

"apricot, no fuzzy skin!" - ursula

"don't want diptotes" - jenn

"teaching a class of women is like herding cats" - david

we fail miserably at recitation:
"burning dead bulbuls (nightingales)..." - david

david to me: you're late for class. where were you (growl)?
me, searching for vocab words to buffer the sad truth: fi...soureer kabeer (in a big bed)

finding my place in the machine.

i realize i can be witty when i have no responsibilities. the rest of the time it's a stretch to just think.

Music List

Galilean Lullaby by Reem Kelani, Manchester England of Palestinian origin

Track: Eilidh on the Western Shore
Artist: Angus Lyon & Ruaridh Campbell
CD: 18 Months Later
Website: http://www.anguslyon.co.uk
played on BBC radio scotland's Global Gathering June 20, 2006

islam 101 notebook from freshman yr

scribbled these notes to self bw classnotes:

moses (p) is the prophet of the mind
jesus (p) is the prophet of the heart
mohammad (p) is the prophet of all mankind

one cant apply islamic standards to authors who have no understanding of islam. in other words, we shouldn't whine about poor taste in content as ppl come from all walks of life, including outside islam. it's so self-centered.

favorite insults:
6. tom-fool of a took!
5. braggart!
4. rogue!
3. scoundrel
2. mongrel!
and the #1 insult of choice *is*....
1. water-lily!

why did the monkey fall out of the tree?
answer: cuz he was dead
-brett

"mind your own basement!" (meaning "business") - worknesh's nephew

Princess of Islam

"She called me the Dark One."

hm. met kevin spacey yesterday at the superman screening after mulling around with christine & claire trying to resist. tried to make ourselves feel intellectual, carry ourselves as mature filmmakers and remain separate from the star struck horde. we failed. brandon routh (superman) was there but just missed the opp to talk to him. wish we could've talked to director bryan singer, an 'sc alum who also directed the usual suspects and xmen, but he was nowhere to be found. the movie was produced by legendary pictures, a new production company that also did batman begins (which i loved, although superman returns was just alright). two guys coming off of wall street founded it. they were also at the screening, as well as major investors like this one greek millionaire who stood near us for a bit of the socializing after the show. an odd sensation. two separate worlds in the same space. greek millionaire. sarah. greek millionaire. sarah. greek millionaire... yeah. interesting how ppl of vastly different socio economic backgrounds come together in the same space for the sake of a film. struggling artists and wall street investors. we also drove out at the same time, and man did that do something something to my ego. his fiery porsche beside my bird-crap stained $500 corolla. i had to laugh.

later that night, apartment-sitting orientation at diane's place.

Tarasa, the young model who's staying with us, got a gig with teen vogue. Hurrah. Her mom's worried about upcoming gigs in new york where agent wants her to go on her own, kind of troubling since daughter's only 16 and it is the modeling world and who knows what kind of pressure photographers with less conservative values might exert. may Allah protect her, grant her hte benefits of this opportunity and spare her the nightmares.

in other news, went to hala's party at trojan hall. met ehta, working on synapse elimination research, esther, working on bilingual education research, arlene, working on gender roles in latin theater research, and janet, student senate diversity liaison.

hala's sociableness makes me appreciate her and want to kill her at the same time. she has no idea, even though i threaten her quite a bit, i think she thinks i'm joking. how is it that people who are bubbly and who do not say anything significant become so entertaining and infectious? it's because they're pretty. and bubbly. let's not forget pretty. those two in ocmbination equal Power. not necessarily respect. but power in the sense that one achieves access to other people's hearts, gains their confidence. but again, not necessarily the kind of access or trust on an intellectual level that involves what people spend their primary lives doing. it's access to a more basic relationship founded on hospitality. where all subsequent conversations these people will have with each other will be about managing livelihoods, raising kids, housekeeping, maybe an idea or two thrown in. as opposed to constant philosophical debates, analytical discussions, pursuit of academic inquiry. one doesnt necessarily need hospitality to establish that kind of relationship with a person.

Shirin listened to the trickling stream. The night was humid, heavy with indecision. Lamps speckled throughout the garden glowed comfortably in the air. Perhaps they were mocking her, but night after night they came to life and returned to sleep at dawn oblivious to the world below them. Tonight was no different. Shirin conceded their innocence, then felt alone again in her quest for a solution.

Junayid was dead. The vile General had become Regent of Tirin. Jonah, now her avowed enemy, entered his two year term in the Royal Army. She was no closer to home and had lost all protectors in the realm of her captors, the confiscated land of her ancestors. She would live out her days as a mere servant girl if an escape plan eluded her much longer. The only problem: an array of battlewounds, multiple failed attempts, soured relationships and news of never-ending destruction across the border-land left her weak.

For the first time in the five years since she'd arrived in Tirin as Junayid's captive child-bride, ripe for indoctrination into Tirinian society, she lacked the will to fight back. Shirin was tired. Of battles. Of death. Of fanatical elders. Of hissing teachers. Of friendships ultimately ending in betrayal.

She did not care anymore. The trickling stream cleansed her soul with its music. And she could spend and eternity nurturing the garden grounds, gathering wisdom from its infinite leaves and petals, as if she never existed.

http://aimtoday.aim.com/

says "Salam" means Hello in Farsi (Iran/Afghanistan/Pakistan)

but we know it covers more geographical areas and languages than that, don't we? we should be a paid consultant for http://aimtoday.aim.com/. yes, we should be.

must remember
friday
10am mtg w/ joe and spo kids
then work
then
6pm dinner w/ crystal

saturday
superman screening
on the wb lot
w/ studio folks
must remember to rsvp
tomorrow morning
tuesday that is

prep questions for iram by thursday
wed palestine conference in la mirada
must remember

had dinner w/ monica at 6. ate mom's khichuri, fish, tikiya, chicken, veggies. offered monica the fish kofta. she liked it. too bad she ate 18 cookies yesterday, wouldve had the whole meal. instead, she ate arigula & spinach and strawberries. talked about what we got out of 508. she said storyboarding. i agree, storyboarding is so cool and efficient. we felt our brains were rotting from not having tests to take and textbooks to read. she was losing her latin. i'm losing my french and arabic. we'd have to start learning all over again. all the way back to see spot run... we decided instead to learn spanish. ive been dying to. love spain. live in a hispanic neighborhood. landlady's from el salvador. monica's mom lives in puerto rico. about time we picked it up. so tomorrow we're going to the bookstore and buying spanish textbooks. we'll meet 3times a week i'A, practice our spanish and invite a spanish speaker to dine with us. awesome plan. hope we can carry it through. i do need to devote my time to other projects though. like raising wads of cash for msn. like making my doc on "muslims in love". like taking my cinematography class. like writing my screenplay for "aliya wears black". like working one day a week. like producing/production designing thesis films. like memorizing juz 'amma. like watching films and reading scripts. like consolidating loans.

i live in the living room. i like it here. spacious and airy, as i said below. yeah. right next to the porch. sometimes i write on the porch, so relaxing alhamdulillah. and stimulating. just what i need.

we had mint tea on the porch after dinner. then she had to run to pick up jon b at the airport. left her arigula & spinach and strawberries and zero calorie dressing in the fridge. should bring them to the bookstore. she invited me to swim but i declined as our society has yet to acknowledge hijabis like to swim in public places fully hijabed. maybe i'll go swimming early in the morning, 6-8am. if i get lucky the lifeguard will have two X chromosomes and no one else will be around. then i'd unhijab and swim to my heart's content. i heart swimming.

commonalities: we both have low blood pressure, were math-science focused in high school, like bizarre, sci-fi-ish comedies, and commitment issues (as in marriage phobia).

she grew up with her grandmother in a rural area. as in forests and barns rural. the kids played hide and seek in the dark. so did the kids in my neighborhood. except we had railroad tracks, cars, yards and porches.

lunch with franklin at eat street. loan consolidation with teresa. ilham was opening a new account. on the phone w fatima about msn fundraising on the walk home.

now sitting on porch at home in los angeles w fan blowing birds chirping kids playing as they walk from school. sun's out. monica's coming over for dinner.

three people are subletting. i'm in a house with strangers. a mother & daughter from new mexico. daughter's 16, a model, out here for casting calls. mother taking business admin classes online. they're up in my room. i sleep in the living room, where it's spacious and airy. the girl's father is a disabled army vet. he's part cherokee. he's back home in a small town called aztec, nm. on private property in the middle of a navajo reservation. sounds like a settlement to me. the other subletter is from boston, gloucester in fact. working in production this summer at dreamworks. i miss my old roomies. i need my own place. but i'm not going to think about that. must focus on the work at hand.

abstraction can be dangerous. in order to manage complex ideas, somehow, someone is dehumanized

a conversation between two warriors of contending ideologies: you know, both of us could be wrong. very wrong.

``Discipline without freedom is tyranny. Freedom without discipline is chaos.''
- Cullen Hightower

repeat after me: your car is not the batmobile.

it's not lost. it's hidden. in here.

"you're not hte devil. you're practice" brilliant line :)

they give you opportunities because you're a nice person, but that doesn't mean you can do the job.

grrrrowlll hideous ugly bloated NAFSssss

yeah, i need to not be passive aggressive anymore.

i really need my own apartment
really really
i love living in the sisters house
but really
for my own sanity and productivity...

things i can do with my own place comfortably:
-take over the walls with art, my own and those needed for inspiration
-play music that resonates with the creative process i'm going through to produce a story
-sing
-play guitar
-spread out on the floor and EXERCISE
-dance
-PRAY! recite to my heart's content
-wake up to recitation floating through the room
-a space to cry
-a space to act out the voices in my head without seeming crazy
-a place to welcome guests and hold meetings and store equipment

the trade off:
-no hala!
-no conversations with hala at night
-no discovery of the musical jems hala puts on my computer
-greater distance bw me & hala, which threatens her being my "fashion consultant" for the screening afterparties
-loss of a personal life outside the film community
-lack of stimulation from people (not necessarily true. think of manchester)
-elida, my landlady. i'd miss her and her warmth. she takes good care of us. and it's so interesting to rent from an evangelical hispanic minister
-the comfort & security of muslims in the surrounding houses
-roomates to help out when you're locked out, or when you need something in an emergency, or to PA on your movies
-i'd have to pay more for renting own place (cheapest i found with acceptable conditions $600/mo. now i pay $375 to share a room).
-lack of transportation from campus cruiser if i live beyond its boundaries
-pay my own internet/phone bill
-overall, i'd pay about $3k more per year. or $6k more over the next two years while finishing up grad school. That's a lot of dough. Is it worth it? I really need my sanity. I cant work freely without having a personal realm.

not a trade off:
-proximity to mosque. never really go anyway, feel disconnected from it. establishment unresponsive about setting up better means of communication within the community
grrr

sometimes people come off as evil, but really they're just socially inept

i'm not lying. i'm subverting bureaucracy.

I realize that I hunger for conversation. Substantive, insightful conversation with people that I meet. It is this prize that I should have in mind when I enter social settings. That way, fear of interaction must take a back seat. It cannot dominate when there is a strong objective nurturing every thought that is formed and every sentence that is spoken. We will be adept at conversation insha'Allah, as if we were travellers alone in the wild.

I am going to retire my old email signature:

How can slumberous souls in this world grasp his reality
distracted as they are by the strength of their dreams?
-Al-Busiri, "Poem of the Cloak"

for the Rumi quote below because it is exaclty the reminder I need in front of me from this point on.

I don't agree with her response that "we actually don't release anything nor do we express anything". Art releases quite a bit of tension, but what it doesn't do is offer you a solution. It might give you some clarity once you've expressed yourself, but that's not guaranteed. She's right that art can over complicate what is already complicated. I have felt that quite a bit, digging an emotion deeper into my consciousness because of art when it could be dealt with more rationally through another medium, such as prayer.

But Ilham's response raised my spirits like nothing else has been able to achieve for so long. Maybe because she called Allah the Real Artist. The Creator of Thoughts. The right terminology to help me not feel alienated anymore in my field. She brought it back to Allah, which I have been struggling to do, but sometimes you need human interaction to emphasize what you already know, to give strength to a voice of truth that has been weakened in your mind from many difficult inner confrontations. Her Rumi quote captured the experience well. Ilham, you hit the right trigger. May Allah Subhana wa Ta'Ala reward you immensely :).

>>art vs prayer
indeed,when emotions are opressed we turn to art to release the opressed and express the unexpressed. we actually don't release anything nor do we express anything. we rather over complicate what is already complicated. we seem to forget about the One who CAN release us from anything anytime. all we have to do is to go to Him cuz He is there for us. few drops of pure water, some simple moves, et voila!!! we are there between the Hands of the Real Artist. free from ALL!!

" Be empty of worrying.
Think of who created thought!
why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open? "
Rumi. "the essential Rumi" <<

the people who are peaceable and satisfied will always be crushed by the ferociously competitive. thus, even though we value tranquility, the perennial spawning of competitors make a secure existence impossible.

conclusion: fight. fight hard. and never look back.

My sister, like me, is growing up as the only Muslim in her world. I am her only resource on Islam - a living, breathing, practicing Muslim - and she thinks I'm so cool (awww:)). There is a mosque nearby but my parents aren't practicing. They will never take her to any event to help her meet kids her age. And even if they did, the kids would probably bore her. Muslim kids either have discipline issues, language issues or parents being psychotically irrational and overprotective issues. In short, not much fun to be around. So when I leave, Tania's left to her world again. She wants to be a good Muslim, but wants to take part in all that the childhood defined by her world has to offer. Which is fine. I just can't be around to give her the strength to practice her Islam in that world from LA. And now that I'm suffering from eman sickness, I have been disabled from teaching her about the Deen in a way that would be applicable to her life at hte moment, as I usually do. This is such a tragic loss considering the critical phase she's entering (teenage years). I don't know how to be genuine about loving the Deen when I feel so crappy inside. It might do more harm to read Quran with her than to not. But I wont see her for six months. A lot of her life will have needed Sustenance that she might not receive if I don't muster up the eman to read with her. i'll think of something, insha'Allah, tomorrow.

I can't believe I'm writing this "love conquers all" cheese whiz.

scene: hijabi feminist throws darts at board labeled "MEN." then off to dinner w/ long time best bud, who drops the bomb that she's engaged. what the WAQETWER!! Flip out ensues

fem protagonist: "how can you side w/ the oppressor? You can't fight for women's rights if you're emotionally attached to the enemy. Your views will be forever neutralized for the sake of domestic bliss."

friend, pissed: everything isn't "us versus them," you know. there are greater issues to fight for - discrimination, profiling, world poverty. rabid feminism isn't the answer.

fem: if you dont take a stand, no one will listen. you're crushing your own voice, dont you get it?

friend: i dont have to take this. i thought you of all people would be happy for me.

fem: i thought my views were always crystal clear.

friend, angrily: assalamu alaikum warahmatullah wabarakatuhu!
[Subtitled: peace be upon you and the mercy and blessings of God!
Subtitled Subtitles: Jerk!]

fem protagonist snatches apple from a fruit bowl and tears it apart, bite after bite hissing "walaikum assalam warahmatullah wabaraktuhu!"
[Subtitled: And peace be upon you , as well as the mercy and blessings of God!
Subtitled subtitles: Traitor!]

later that day...

scene: fem protagonist sings Soul Music during private time in the Hijabi House to vent frustration over friend's misguided fate. Next door, the House of Scraggly Beards raises its head in confusion. Likeable male protagonist/love interest to be taps feet to the tune. (ooo la la)

to be continued...

the view from the couch at home.

life is full of exceptions, so why do we always want to apply a general rule?

i want to become a smoker. acquire a habit that's physically destructive. alcohol smells awful and endangers the lives of others. i've grown out of my hawaiian punch addiction. fasting leaves me alone with my thoughts. my frightening, cacophonous, shrieking inner thoughts. purification seems out of reach. i read Qur'an but nothing stirs the heart. because i havent had the environment to recite aloud in a long, long time. recite with melodious melancholy. i'm self conscious. i doubt my worth. my purpose. every day. my mother drives a school van full of 5 year olds. she loves her job because, she says, she is surrounded by innocence. purity. i want to be surrounded by innocence.

what's wrong with me? why don't i fight back? there's not much to believe in. so little hope. i'll never achieve yaqeen. i barely have eeman. it used to be that the test for the strength of eeman was placing myself in hasan al-banna's shoes. would i believe in islam as much as he did at the lowest point our ummah has seen in its history? when everyone is against you, do you still believe? what's lifted my eeman in the past is that the answer has always been "yes." It was harder then, so must easier now, went the logic. "Do not hesitate to reap the rewards of being able to practice your faith." And I bounced back.

But now, I respond, "he never saw the ummah rise to strength in such an ignoble way, casting fear in the hearts of innocents. the Prophet (P) said, "A True Muslim is one in whose hands mankind feels safe." We are ascending to power but I doubt we are true Muslims. I fear for humanity. I am ashamed that I belong to these people, who cannot see the hideous injustices they permit through their romanticization of themselves. With noble intentions they strive for brotherhood. Unity. But they shrug off our brothers' crimes with "I'm not responsible for them. I don't even know them." We know our brothers enough to send families on tours to discover the wonders of muslim china. But we don't know our brothers enough to send families on tours to the suburbs of Paris where women are burned for being "dishonored".

We are so caught up in our own victimhood that we cannot empathize with europe's increasing sense of victimhood. maybe it's a subconscious, collective desire for revenge. if so, we are immature and not ready for the responsibility of leading humanity. You can't lead humanity and want to destroy large sections of it at the same time. More and more I want to take the side of non-Muslims. We expect them to understand us, but we do not want to understand them. Because western Muslims don't even realize how much of their Islamic interpretation is colored by western ideas, they feel they have more to offer non-Muslims than the other way around. But western culture has offered us tremendous opportunity for rebirth. We barely acknowledge it, let alone feel grateful for it, let alone feel a sense of solidarity with our cultural brothers.

We focus on the tally. Who's wronged who the most. Who's most misunderstood and deserves the most attention. That's what we care about. I would just like to be part of a more nurturing ummah. This is the root of much of my confusion in purpose. I can't trust my ummah, so I want to act alone. But I feel so handicapped alone. So ineffectual and worthless. Yet I still love the Muslims I know. Even though I disagree strongly with their rose-colored perception of - or at least indifference toward flaws in - our ummah. We are only as strong as our weakest one.

The Republic is the Empire is the Republic.

It's unfortunate that the people who relate to how I think are not in a position to offer me Islamic advice. And that the people who are Islamically equipped would do more harm than good with their nasihah. Except perhaps Faaiza, but she's getting married and is lost to me forever. and ever. and ever and ever.

Somewhere in the world villages are being oppressed. and I continue to whine on blogger.com. the cause is lost.

must remember to consolidate ribe-infested loans before july 1st.

humans have a need to feel needed.

existence is fitna.

hell, everything above 0 Kelvin is fitna.

we must break the laws of access. with style.

shoot, we're grown ups.

this isn't a dip in eeman. it's a sustained crisis.

when you hit adulthood, you're smacked with responsibility without a clue how to use it. you are so ravenous for the power that you been deprived of. (hisss, ending sentence with preposition...)

no one tears apart an apple like a militant hijabi feminist.

there's no translation service for the adult world for kids.

if you're not informed, your lives are in the hands of those who are. And they might not be acting in your interest.

naseeb.gov
hehehe
i heart mrs q :)

four things that happened that never really happened
pickups with monica & shilpi in the rain
first passover seder
spo!
galilean lullaby and breathing light
George
"Go to sleep, China's economy's givin' us the beat down"
the bagpipers at the memorial day parade
cleo's art exhibit, being the subject of her photographs, wow
paris 2001
trip hop: a new hope?

http://www.bbc.co.uk/religion/programmes/belief/scripts/nitin_sawhney.shtml

http://www.zaidshakir.com/Articles/New%20Voices/Core_of_Islam__Zaid_web_.pdf

i just had a feeling akin to standing in an elevator with daniel pipes for fourteen floors.

even though one's livelihood and life's work is toward a certain cause, the person working against you may still be a part of your professional network. and somehow you work together in order to work against each other on a larger scale. scary.

it's not fair how i romanticize people without their permission. i feel like there should be a copyright on one's identity and i should pay a fee to interpret things the way i do.

attitude predisposes one to certain kinds of knowledge.

artists are not that pretty. thats why they're artists.

doc said i have low blood pressure

was reading on (http://www.medicinenet.com/low_blood_pressure/page5.htm)that it can be caused by quite a few things, none of which apply to me really except possibly heart problems.

"Weakened heart muscle can cause the heart to fail and reduce the amount of blood it pumps. One common cause of weakened heart muscle is the death of a large portion of the heart’s muscle due to a single, large heart attack or repeated smaller heart attacks (please read the Heart Attack article for more). Other examples of conditions that can weaken the heart include medications that are toxic to the heart, infections of the muscle of the heart by viruses (myocarditis), and diseases of the heart’s valves such as aortic stenosis."

the small heart attacks and the heart valves malfunctioning i think are likely candidates.

doc said i should drink more water, i probably have dehydration. i dont think so. i drink a lot of water, i tried drinking more but the continuous bathroom breaks are ridiculous. i dont think doc can help me much anymore. he's a great person, but i feel like he's not hearing me a lot of times when i describe symptoms, so i stop going into details and so i feel he can't offer me appropriate diagnoses/treatments. when i get back to LA i'A i'll go to a doc who can check out the heart. i've had breathing issues prompted by chest pain since i was a kid and the folks were like "you're just making that up." oh the convenience of denial. i should probably get one of these tests:

"Holter monitor recordings are used to diagnose intermittent episodes of abnormal heart rhythms. If abnormal rhythms occur intermittently, a standard EKG performed at the time of a visit to the doctor's office may not show the abnormal rhythm. A Holter monitor is a continuous recording of the heart's rhythm for 24 hours that often is used to diagnose intermittent episodes of bradycardia or tachycardia." I've noticed disruptions in my hearbeat and it freaks me out. but whenever i go to the doc it's fine.

i think my hair loss is related to this because of iron deficiency resulting from low blood pressure. although low pressure is not necessary blood loss, lack of exposure to iron would be the same, right? should ask...
http://www.medicinenet.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=62280 says "[iron deficiency] can be caused by inadequate dietary intake of iron, excessive menstrual bleeding, and other forms of blood loss. Treatment includes adequate dietary intake of iron and, when appropriate, iron supplements."

i really need to resolve this. yesterday i woke up in the middle of the night to intense dizziness. tried to keep myself conscious, afraid of what would happen if i "fainted". tried to turn, got dizzier, very scary, couldnt stop it. lasted about 15minutes.

i have

control issues
trust issues
ego issues
memory issues
focus issues (in more ways than one)
intimacy issues

depression
passive aggressive tendencies
and an insufficient blood supply

i want to whisper in a newborn's ear, "the warmth of the womb only prepares you for a lifetime of disillusion"

the american people waste their freedom and their wealth.

shaitan is my enemy
and causing me to forget my purpose
is the worst wound he's ever inflicted
vanishing time in an abyss of self loathing
under a yellow sky

bring back the dance of swords
the crowns and braids
the energy charging through
blue skies

i'm alive
i'm still alive

bring me back
to freedom
i love you
all of you