Where there's a will there's a way

A little while ago, I bemoaned my inability to stay awake. My friends, I have figured out the key, please listen carefully as I share: 24 hr take home exam + white ghostly fear + adrenaline pumping = magically open eyes and typing fingers. As you can see from the time of this posting, it works. It really works. Genius.

Measuring Success

Asim says there are two types of people in this world, those who follow Buddha's "Life is Suffering" approach and those who follow the "Life is bhangra" approach. Which category do you fall in?

Humera says the break down is goaldriven or experience driven. Experience driven people value life based on life's experiences. Goal driven people have "to do" lists and 5 year plans. Which category do you fall in?

Americans are by far goal driven people and success is the actualization of ambition whether it be an ivy league degree, the elusive MD, the new Benz, the bigger house. Success is important and to succeed one must be more ambitious than the next. Starting earlier than before. Oh to be a Soccer mom with a thousand errands to run in between driving the "mini-adult" six year old's to ballet, piano, karate lessons. You look at the race, see the pace and try to keep up so you don't fall behind.

Not everyone lives this way. Our driver in Puerto Rico shared stories of his kids in the US and when I asked him why he stayed he smiled sympathetically, "and leave paradise?" In Turkey I remember the restaurantier smiling as we walked in, greeting us not as patrons but long lost friends coming home. Success was walking down narrowed cobblestone walkways towards the Aegean sea and living fully. I saw pure joy more in one week in the eyes of strangers than in lifetime in the US. And just like the aura of "go go go" is contageous the aura of calmness is catching as well. And a whiff of it leaves you nostalgic for more. Perhaps its why I love Cafe Istanbul.

I can't help but wonder is this race in pursuit for sucess living? "Can money pay for all the days I lived awake but half asleep" Sometimes in the day's rush to get things done I forget to live in the present my body here but my mind and soul two minutes to two years ahead. Is that living? We have dishwashers and washing machines. Cars, planes and concords. Microwaves and cellphones. So why are there still not enough minutes in the day? Is it the day we should fault, or something terribly off in ourselves? Is it a coincidence that the U.S depite being the most affluent is the most depressed? (Nigeria the happiest)

For the first time in my life I dont have a five year plan. Will I be practicing law? dunno. Teaching? got me. Penguin trainer? Just as likely. It's a weird free falling experience not to know where your next step is. Like everyone I want success. The bigger question is, what is success? Is success trying my hardest next year to get the highest paying job I can find? Writing the hundreds of stories bursting at the seams in my mind? Going back to teaching the children I sometimes miss so much my heart aches? Having my own? Playing house? Is it less important what I accomplish and more important that I enjoy the time I have. I honestly don't know.

The struggle for wakefulness

In college, staying up all night to study for finals was a breeze. Me and whichever friend was down for studying would pick up 2-3 ice cold Frappuchinos and sneak up to the 24/7 Blue Room. Medical students were the only ones worthy of studying in these gallowed halls which were really was just a drab, depressing square of a room. But it was silent as compared to the undergrad library, simply a place to socialize and make new friends. Though the blue room was only for medical students my desi status left the MD status presumed. We heard legends of campus police coming to inspect ID's and kick intruders out, infact I swear just like I may have seen bigfoot, I think I saw a girl once pack up her bags and whimper as she was escorted out of the blue room trailed by two officers, to this day it bewilders my common sense, as with the rampant underage drinking on campus, they felt their resources better suited to find the bandit kids yearning to study in a quiet library? Beuarocracy at its finest. If the blue room seemed too risky, we'd tone down our Mission Impossible mindset and head to Denny's where the waiters for some unexplainable reason always gave us free unlimited coffee and occassional icecreams.

No matter what, when we needed to, we stayed up through the night, pause every so often for a comparative gripe, study some more. So when law school began I had no doubt what was to come. the late night studying, the coffee pot on auto. And yet. Its not happening. Come 11pm my eyes start shutting, my mind getting foggy and I want nothing more than to crawl into bed.

I thought Coffee would be my savior allowing me back to my sleepless yet studious nights. But Coffee makes me jittery and morphs me into a person I scarcely recognize. Not that I've ever been drunk but I feel like I can relate to the morning after regret from my jittery oober hyper state of mind. It's amusing- so I'm told. Once as a teacher high on coffee at a staff meeting, every time the principal requested a volunteer my hand shot up with an eager grin "Stay afterschool to sort files? Redo all the bulletin boards on the fifth grade wing? " Super! This became a habit as I'd stop and get the brewing coffee on my way to the staff meetings until Kate intervened diverting me from the teacher's lounge to ensure my sobriety at the meetings knowing full well that high on coffee one day, the next day I'd look bewildered at all the assignments strewn across my desk with just the slightest foggy recollection that it was all my own doing. I guess my point is Coffee don't particularly care for me, nor I it. But I drink it cuz it works and when it works I'm typing at 100 words a minute, reading 40 pages an hour, cooking dinner and straightening my hair all at the same time (allright I sorta stretched it there with the hair straightening- that requires absolute concentration ofcourse) And then I crash. And tis a long way down I tell ye. Long. Long. Long. Way down.

Tea is better as far as jittery-ness goes since years of drinking it leaves it with just the slighest effect. But even with chai I can't shake the tiredness. Friday I think I drank approximately 1.5 gallons of tea at Cafe Istanbul. Mustafa the owner kept pouring more despite protests, "Come on! Drink it!" pouring more and pushing it my way. I'm a sucker for peer pressure of the chai sort. You'd think 1.5 gallon (give or take) would make me high as a kite yet ten minutes later I was leaning on Kashif feeling more drowsy than before.

Tonight again I sit here, my book before me, my fingers poised on the laptop I want nothing more than to go to sleep. Where did old Aisha go? or is the new old Aisha the problem? What happened to the studying all night? Is it lack of friends sharing a common goal? The lack of rush from rebelliously studying in the blue room? Or that the only other person who lives in this house is fast asleep upstairs under the covers and the sleepy aura of the home affects me. Who knows... back to them books *sigh*

My brain- it's full**

Exams are rolling in right around the corner and this busy bee is studying like its no one's business. I am impressed with myself. If only I channeled this drive um.... a wee earlier? Ah well, better late than never I say. So I warn you as I have before, that the posts will either become a) less frequent (and/or) b) nonsensical. I feel much like the young man in the cartoon... brain.. full... too.. full.... *gulp*

PS: I was excited about What about Brian and ran on the treadmill to it yesterday, it seemed Felicity-ish but I was terribly disappointed. They're trying so hard to not get cancelled they rushed the stories without any character development and yes as Derek Zoolander would say, the cast is really really ridiculously good looking, but... looks can't save a show! Scrubs doesnt exactly have the most eye candy cast in the world but its the best show on TV. Looks only take you so far, in the end it's all about "dil" (heart) oh and good writers dont hurt either.

P.S.S: Right now you're thinking. "she said she's studying?" Well, I am! But a girl's gotta work out no? TV is the guilty pleasure to take me away from the treadmill and help the time fly. *guilt fading* Back to them books.... *sigh*

***P.S.S: Ali, Aamir, ahem ZOOLANDER. Do I get no love?

Time....

And just like that life drifts by
one day at a time
subtly slowly
pilfering a handful of grains each second, each minute, each hour
praying we don't notice
-we don't-
countless grains parted with
willingly nonchalantly eagerly foolishly
beliving in its never ending supply

Yet what is the wisdom of awareness?
for the tighter we hold on the faster they flee our clenched fists
taking us with or without our consent
further and further away from the shore

Homelessness

In college I met my first homeless person face to face and its an experience I'm sure both of us did not soon forget. Leaving my apartment for campus a kind looking man approached me. To preface, I always pictured homeless people as I saw them in Miami, missing teeth, wild hair, filthy clothing. And I being young and naiive expected homeless people in NYC, Chicago, Atlanta... but not Gainesville, Florida. So anyways this man, let's call him Bob approached me

Bob: excuse me miss I'm homeless.. do you have some change?
Aisha: you're not homeless.
Bob: Yes.. I am.
Aisha: No you're not! You are dressed really nice
Bob: um. Thanks miss but I am homeless, I live on University Ave
Aisha: Yeah nice try you can't fool me! *looking around* Am I on candid camera?
Bob: no! I really am homeless! I swear!
Aisha: Riiiiiiiight
Bob: I am! Can I please have some change? *getting very very sad*
Aisha: oh.. I'm sorry. I have 20 cents. Here you go. Sorry for not believing you.

Probably the hardest 20 cents Bob ever panhandled for! I used to give money to homeless people until someone told me not to because its spent on alcohol or drugs so instead I would givefood. I rememeber one homeless man at UF with long dredds a Jamaican flag colored beret who only had one leg. One day waiting for the light to change he told me how he lost his leg to cancer. My heart just broke for him. So occasionally when if I knew I'd be passing by him I'd grab him a bit to eat. He was always happy to see me and I felt happy that I was giving back to society. But years later relaying the story to my brother in law who also went to UF (since I think everyone who went to UF knew this man) he fondly remembered the one legged homeless man who lost his leg in a drug deal gone bad. All these years I was supporting a drug dealer. Aint it true that the road to hell is filled with good intentions? Ocassionally giving him food got me in the habit of taking doggie bags even if I didnt particularly care for the food in the offchance I could give it to someone. Kashif and I cracked up in Vancouver when we took some leftover Falafels with us and a homeless man approached us pitifully begging for money. I offered him the leftovers. His entire demeaner changed as he demanded to know what it was, whether it was tasty or not, spicy or not. I guess beggars can't be choosers is just a metaphor?

Last year, driving to school, a homeless man approached me as I sat preplexed about my flat tire and offered to fix it. Turned out he was once a mechanic.... he said its difficult to understand how difficult it is to get back on your feet once you're so far down.... a downward spiral you dont know how to spin back in sync from.

Today I did something I'm not proud of. I had three egg omelette at the local sandwhich/coffee shop and could not finish even half of it. I debated taking a "to go" box but I'm on campus all day so the thought of hanging onto egg for 8+ hours didnt sound too appealig as I'd quickly have the library all to myself from the lovely eggy smell as it drifted as the hours passed. So I threw it away. Then as I walked to school two homeless people approached me and asked me if I could offer them anything. I shook my head. They nodded and sighed and proceeded to go through the trash can next to them in search for food. I can't even explain how awful that felt.

When I see people in those situations I can't help but wonder. Where are your parents? Your siblings? Aunts? Uncles? Many of the homeless are mentally ill, when the asylums were opened years ago because of the improper treatment meted out there, many of the mentally ill had no place else to go but the streets....The homeless are abandoned by everyone. If I stop and think about all government Pork Barrel projects and how that money could do so much for such people... I dont know.. bless the people who run shelters and food kitchens.. but to be homeless must be what it is to be truly alone.

Confessions of a guilty meat eater..

This past weekend a conversation with Kashif, and Asim got me thinking. (Ahem, please note the shout out) We were talking about Kashif's chacha (paternal uncle) who lives out in the country and buys his own free range chickens that lived happy lives frolicking in the fields before they become, well dinner. The taste of these chickens is unlike any other I've ever eaten... and that troubles me.

Some months ago I grew troubled when I learned what the animals we eat, eat. As I researched, I was horrified to learn of factory farms. I vowed a life of only veggies but talking to Kashif's mamu (maternal uncle) who works for Tyson and has all sorts of degrees in agriculture -chicken- cow related studies he talked me down from my vegeterian cliff based on his research and experience. He did recommend drinking milk from cows not pumped up with hormones inducing lactation because it stays in the milk but he didn't think it was a big deal and drank such milk himself.

So I put it out of my mind till recently when I read this post by Tee. I also had not read the particular article on factory farms that I posted above back then either. Reading the wikepedia article just made me feel ill. So now I'm back in "indecisionville." I am not opposed to meat but it doesnt sit well with me that their lives were so cruel and inhumane. I love hamburgers, chicken fajitas, kebobs, and all other sorts of yummy goodness and if the treatment was fine I woul not be having an issue. To give up this is a real struggle for me. If I decide not to eat regular meat anymore is it fair that Kashif stop too? Organic meat is very expensive so meat would be eaten a lot less frequently. Do I make two seperate meals for dinner every day? If I go to someone's house for dinner odds are they arent serving organic food, do I just eat the vegetarian dishes? What if they have no vegetarian dishes? Doesnt that look rude? Most of the things I know how to cook are meat related and I dont like Tofu. It probably doesnt seem like a big decision but it feels like one to me. Anyone been through this or have an opinion?

Ignorance was bliss. *sigh*

Odds and ends...

I sent off for our visas for Brazil. oy ve. Very exhausting process with a million specific requirements. Pay money. But only money order. But only postal money orders. You see Brazil not pleased that the US makes them jump through hoops, so they make the US folks jump through hoops. You know like the song "anything you can do I can do better?" Well this would be "Anything you can do I can do too" and this policy is explicitly stated in their application form explaining their $100 visa fee: For US citizen, a processing fee of US$ 100.00 in US POSTAL Money Order (ONLY) will be charged in reciprocity to identical fee paid by Brazilian citizens who applied for a VISA for the United State of America. Seriously. Who is getting hurt here? The little people, that's who. Sniff.

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I checked out this site where you upload pictures and it tells you which celeberities you look most like. The first picture I submitted said I most resembled.... Pamela Anderson. *pauses as waits for laughter to subside* Yeah. But the site said to submit more than one and see the ones that come up most frequently as looking like you... so according to this site I look most like Alicia Keys and Amanda Peet. I was expecting more of them picking someone on the bollywood scene since they are in their database but I won't complain. Vatever!

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I saw a Turkish film at the High on Friday. The scenes of Istanbul made me nostalgic for Turkey, thus far the best vacation I've had of which I wrote about here, here, and here. What was interesting about the movie was that when I saw it I thought it was okay, but afterwards at Cafe Istanbul when Mustafa the owner shared his personal take, the movie's message changed before my eyes because he explained nuances and the political undertones that I with limited background knowledge of Turkey completely missed. One example of the lost in translation element was in this movie the female lead's name was Duniya which means "world" but only someone who knew the meaning of the word would understand that often times monologues about Duniya were not necessarily just about Duniya the woman, but much more. I got that since Duniya happens to mean the same thing in punjabi/urdu but the non Turkshi/Desi folks probably didn't notice that at all. Just made it very clear to me how much of foreign films are inevitably lost in translation. And speaking of movies, I also updated my movie reviews

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Exams are right around the corner. I am trying just to do one thing each week that could fall under the category of fun and other than that I'm trying to study study study. Law school is cruel in that way though. The more you study does not guaruntee that the better you will do. Four months of class and one essay will determine your grade. A very very subjective essay. So you could study till the cows come home and do great, or study till the cows come home and do not so much great. I dont know if you remember Sesame Street growing up but there was a "music video" (for lack of a better word) of a song called "Trying and trying again" and it showed a little kitten climbing up some stairs. She tries and tries and finally takes one step up. She may not make it all the way up to the top like she wants, but if she doesnt try at all she's guarunteed to stay right where she is. Funny how 20+ years later as I stare at these mammoth beasts they insist we call books I feel like a kitten at the bottom of some mighty foreboding steps...*gulp* back to dem books.

We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence then, is not an act, but a habit- Aristotle

Perspectives....

Driving to class today, the traffic backup felt endless, then the injury accident changed to fatality. Suddenly sitting in traffic felt like a precious gift.

Training for Race for the Cure feeling hopeless as cramps ached my sides, I thought of this which Tee posted. I have no excuses.

Reading for Torts the 130 pages seemed daunting and I bemoaned the impending exam preparation, then I read this and thought of the millions without such luxury.

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle- Albert Einstein.

What's in a name?

Today on Scrubs Eliott told Jordan that she might want to marry Keith but not sure if she wants the last name Dudemeister... it got me thinking about how most women change their name after they get married and of a conversation I had with with a concierge a few years ago when I tagged along with Kashif for a conference:

Aisha: Hi, I got locked out of my room.. could someone let me back in?

Bob: *big smile* Sure thing m'aam I'll just check your liscence and call security to open it right up for you *big ole smile and takes card*

Bob: *silence*. You're not in our database.

Aisha: Oh yeah sorry, it would be under my husband's name. Iqbal.

Bob: *types in Iqbal...pauses.. stares at my license. Stares at name on screen.. frowns at me*

Aisha: Um yes we dont have the same last name but I promise he's my husband! See the ring? *raises hand and wiggle ring finger with sweet smile to prove not crazy stalker*

Bob: *shaking his head and frowning at Aisha, very stern* You say you're married?

Aisha: um... yes? *wiggle ring finger again and smile*

Bob: You mean to tell me you got married and didnt change your last name?

Aisha: huh?

Bob: Your husband allowed this?! HE said it was okay not to take his last name?!?

Aisha: um......

Bob: *picks up phone to call security while staring at me quite disapprovingly* If my wife even thought about not changing her last name, we'd be havin some issues.

Yep much to Bob's sincere disapproval I am married and did not take hubby's last name. When I was getting married it didn't come up as a problem. Kashif asked me a few days before the wedding "so you changing your last name?" I told him I wasn't planning to and he said "cool" and we moved on.... just like that..

I always find it funny and fascinating the question of "why?" It's usually accompanied with a look of uneasy fascination as though one is witnessing a strange monkey in their own backyard. Array is she a feminist? Doesn't like her husbands last name? Haw hai!

Reason one: The Western name change thing came about when women were still percieved as virtually property with few rights of their own. First property of their fathers, then of their husbands and ofcourse the last name changed as ownership changed. Ofcourse that's not why women change their names now but the history makes me feel funny about it.

Reason two: Like all parents, mine put thought and care into naming me. The meaning of my full name is: Life Peace Happiness. I like that and I am proud of it, though I am married my name signifies who I am and where I came from. It honors the people who raised me. I felt by changing my name a part of me would change.

Reason three: In Islamic tradition women don't have to change their names and from what I hear it's Sunnah not to... during the Prophet's time women kept their name. This is why it cracked me up one ISNA conference when Kashif and I, newly married, met some aunties who saw our name tags and with eyebrows raised.. "ohh you didnt change your name? Moderrrrn woman hm?" I had to stifle a smile since keeping your last name is a part of Islamic culture dating back to the founding of the faith. Oh Auntie... Vatever!

Reason four: And yes plain old laziness was a factor too. The thought of changing my drivers lisence, social security card, diplomas, etc made me just want to take a nap.

There are ofcourse downsides, (no not the stares, and haw hai's...that's kinda funny) but our kids will have his last name and maybe having the same last name makes you all seem more... I dont know "family-ish".. and maybe its a little less complicated say getting back into your hotel, signing out kids from school... proving family ties. Maybe one day I will change it but right now I'm comfortable with status quo.

It seems most people have strong opinions one way or the other on this topic. Did you change your last name? Did you? Didn't you? Why? Why not? If you're a guy do you relate to Bob and his sincere disappointment that a patron of his hotel should keep her maiden name or will you like Kashif shrug your shoulders and leave it to her.

The overseas marriage thing

Growing up, a common discussion point amongst my desi friends was wondering who we would someday marry. My friends found the answer to these questions fairly quickly as the majority of them were engaged by 16 and married off by 18 to men in Pakistan. Some lived there, some returned with their new family. These were not forced marriages, all parties involved wanted to get married.

Without exception all my friends were beautiful and intelligent girls. They never got less than A's most of them graduating in the top 10 of their highschool class, many participated in national math championships and wanted to be doctors, lawyers, and teachers. I still remember one of my bestfriends turning to me in class one day to tell me she she found the perfect place to open her law practice once she graduated from Yale. Her fantasies rarely consisted of boys, she wanted to be a lawyer and she read every book and watched every show that featured one. Before she could even start college though she was engaged and married and living in Pakistan. The same went for all my other friends, some were excited, some quite nervous seeing clearly the opportunities they were leaving behind. I won't lie, a freshman, I secretly envied them as I saw their beautiful engagement clothing and gold bangles, the letters they wrote to their fiancees and the gifts that arrived in the mail from eager inlaws.

With the exception of two friends out of over a dozen who went this route, all returned home to their parents four, five years later, wounded and bruised some physically some emotionally, toddlers in tow and no means of supporting themselves. In my social psychology class our professor repeated it over and over "correlation does not equal causation" So I can't say that it's because these girls married guys overseas, or that they were not educated that divorce resulted since marriages fail everday outside of this category of people... but its an odd coincidence.

What makes it more peculiar to me is that just as much as I hear about the latest ABCD girl who is divorcing her Pakistani husband, I have never heard of this situation with ABCD guys marrying Pakistani raised girls. The overseas divorce trend seems to strike mainly the women who marry there.

My theory is that the problem lies with the desi idealism of traditional gender roles. This issue isn't a problem for ABCD boys who marry girls from overseas because most girls there understand their role as a housekeeper, mother, cook, etc. And ofcourse girls are taught growing up to be docile and to listen to their husband so if he wants them to get an education and become a career minded woman, why she'll put her mind to that and do that too.

But these same gender roles dont groove quite as easily for ABCD girls marrying overseas expected to be the docile desi wife. She has her own expectations and he his own as well, often because of the difference in upbringing the expectations conflict. Compromise could happen, but who should be the one to give in a little first or take the step to meet halfway? Add to the mix inlaws who now want to move in with their son... its a difficult situation.

I assumed it was the culture clash that caused the bitter problems, a connection gap in understanding the other's perspective. But Wayfarer, Southern Masala, Sobia, Baji are examples of beautiful intelligent American women married to guys from Pakistan. They are obviously happy with their spouses so I can't help but wonder, why did all my friends have such a hard time adjusting? Was it that men who would be able to think outside the box and marry a non-desi woman are the type of men who are open minded enough to compromise and understand different gender roles? Is gender roles even the issue?

My friends are all back in the US. Some remarried, others are going back to school to become teachers assistants, paralegals and medical technicians... I find their career choices today sadly ironic as just ten years ago their dreams were very different... birds with wings clipped so long they forgot how to fly...

Are my perspectives an anomoly to what others have witnessed or experienced? I do know some who are happy including a good friend of mine... but more often than not, such marriages that I have seen are not working. Maybe I'm just witnessing a strange anomoly in the people I know... Your perspectives very welcome.

Note: Mezba is sharing some interesting well thought out perspectives on similar issues here.

Jill Carroll Free

Alhamdullilah. I always held hope Jill Carroll would survive. I don't know why but I felt I could relate to her and since January 7 I've prayed for her as I thought of her, her parents, and the three months of hell they endured. I am floored at criticism for her statements while in captivity. She says it was duress.... why does she need to justify it? How cruel to accuse her just hours after her release for what she did to survive! What would they have done in her shoes? I am thankful for her release and pray for the quick release of others still in captivity.