Oh. My. God.

Remember Dream Job? (here? here? and here?)

I GOT THE CALL TODAY.
THEY WANT TO INTERVIEW ME.

WOW. WOW. WOW.

Kashif told me when I was done being um, jubilant "wow. you acted just like the American Idol people when they find out they're going to the next round" heh. I'm just a semi-finalist but its a step in the right direction. Thanks for all your well wishes. I am so happy. Please pray for me (insh'allah)!

Of Pumpkins and Memes

I'm sick. Flu sick. Why? Because it is one of those weeks, that's why. Luckily (sort of) it hit today so I was able to have a good weekend filled with studying at a fabulous coffee shop right by the house! Being as I live in the 'burbs and there's nothing semi-youthful within a 20 mile radius, this discovery is most delightful. Studying is just funner when it involves Brasilian coffee and good music. The fruitful studying let me have a guilt free fun time at Zainab and Aasem's fabulous pumpkin carving party. And people, you can call my pumpkin carving techniques retarded all you want, its special, and y'all were simply envious. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! Mines the one in the middle. But there were more pumpkins. Many, many more.

Sohnii tagged me! A perfect thing to cheer me up before I zonk out in 3 .. 2...

Today
Height: 5'5'ish (but it doesn't change on a daily basis?)
Color: Can you tell this is a desi tag? See here for my answer.
Piercing: earrings (sans nose ring due to job hunting. Despite the drama, I miss it.)
Tattoos: No, despite someone in Rio who tried to PEER PRESSURE ME. Are you reading peer pressure-er? ;-) kidding kidding!

Right Now
Time: 11:56 pm
Mood: Tired, pouting.
Taste: Orange Juice
Weather: Gorgeous starry night.
Bad habit: none. duh! Seriously, where do I begin? stressing too much.
Thing I want to do: travel, write, and drink coffee, lots and lots of coffee.

Favourite
TV show: UGLY BETTY. You can see full episodes online- free!
Book: Lots and lots like here.
Non alcoholic drink: um.. normally tea, but lately, coffee.
Brand: Express. Is that a brand? Ugly Betty's coworkers probably snickering.
Perfume: Jadore for me. Hugo Boss for him.
Designer: Coach?

Random
Have a job: Graduate Research Assistant.
My CD player has what in it right now: Talib Kweli. Thanks Humera! You saved me a trip to bestbuy where the sales associate invariably looks at me like I have lost my mind when I ask for similar albums. Why can't I enjoy a good beat and great lyrics?
What makes me happy: Coffee, hot chocolate, spring time, pumpkin carving, smiling loved ones, Bendel candles, good music, good friends, alhamdullilah, many things!

When/What Was the Last
I got a real letter: Dunno. That is sad.
Got an email: Christina with some great Hajj advice. I'm about zonk out Chris, will email you tomorrow though. Thank you!
Thing I purchased: A cake. That Zainab destroyed. Sniff.
TV program I watched: Desperate Housewives. Though I hate it now.
Movie I saw in the theaters: Devil wears Prada. It's been a while! I dont like seeing movies in the theatre though. I prefer sitting on my couch, with a throw and some tea.
Hugged: Kashif. He is good to get sick around.
Place I was: Living Room. Havent moved much today. Like a slug.
Song heard: Soul Rebels. Okay, even I had to laugh.
Phone call: My brother. Love you kiddo.

I Tag
Anyone who wants to do it. Let me know if you do.

....1

good night! :)

Of sprained ankles and spirituality

Tuesday night, walking down a set of stairs, I tripped and my leg went one way, my foot another. Its my right foot and I'm right handed. I didn't know I'm also right foot-ed. I try walking in my usual manner, and find I simply can't. Its strange to see the sideways glances of people who see me wince in pain as I awkwardly hobble. Finding no parking on the first floor of a parking garage with no elevators made for an excruciating six flights down. I can't imagine how I will walk up them tonight.

The sprain has occurred during a time in my life that stress is reaching all time highs as I'm studying for exams, writing term papers, preparing for hajj, applying for jobs, and working on getting certified to sit for the bar. And I don't handle stress well.

But with each painful step, and each sideways glance, I am reminded that this pain is temporary. For many, such pain, such sideways glances of pity and curiosity never fade. Though the pain makes me walk slower its giving me a reminder of perspective. As though God tapped me and said, "Um hello. Are you seriously feeling sorry for yourself when I have blessed you with the privilege to worry about such things? "

There was a time in my life that I looked at everything as a blessing. A hurt or a loss was a challenge from God that He knew I could handle and work through. A kind smile or opportunity, a pat on the back. Somewhere along the way this perspective slipped through my fingers, and I've been sifting though the sand to find it again. This sprained ankle is making me realize that just as I'm walking painfully one step at a time, icing it, compressing it, elevating it, and doing what I need to do to slowly heal and regain my gait, I must slowly begin working to regain my spirituality, for perspective and spirituality go hand in hand and through painfully building it up again bit by bit, eventually it may become whole again.

"Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful." -Buddha

It's good to share!**

During our fifteen minute beak from class, I stood in line to purchase my baked doritoes. I waited for the guy (let's call him Bob) ahead of me to make his purchase and then handed the cashier a five dollar bill. She gave me change. As the cash changed hands a quarter slipped through my hands and fell to the floor. Bob turns around, adjusts his diet coke under his arm, bends down and picks it up. Just as I'm about to smile, say "thanks!" and outstretch my hand for the departed change, he pockets it and walks away.

It reminded me of a three year old girl at a friends home who walked up to a little boy playing with his toy cars and snatched two out of his hands. When scolded she looked at her mother bewildered "But.. its good to share!"

Young, or old, people can be quite perplexing.

** To Clarify: though one may want to assume he thought *he* had dropped it, in this case, it was not so. 1) he was quite a distance away when it fell 2) As he walked away he glanced back looked at me and grinned.

Wonders never cease**

There is a bird. In my garage. It will not leave. Kashif opened the garage door to leave for work. The car was just sitting there minding its own business. A bird at full speed, as though competing for birdie olympics flew headfirst into the car. Then we thought it left. It did not. It is still there. In my garage. And it will not leave. Both garage doors have been open. For four hours. I check. Its quiet. Then closing the door, thinking its gone, the bird jumps from its hiding and frantically flies around. But. wont. leave. And the bird is bald. And stares at me in a crazy way. Unmoving. Alfred Hitchcock movies come to mind. So I call animal control. Who tell me to call the police. Who tell me someone will be there. When? They do not know. Tonight? Tomorrow? Monday?

So its me and crazy bird. Chilling.

I think I'll name him Norm.

Did I mention this homeowner is exhausted?

***Update: Animal control came and shooed the bird away. Why do I still feel drained?

Meeting the Lady Caliphs

Blogging can pay.... me! Special thanks to Rabia for referring me to the editor for Muslim Girls Magazine who launch their way cool magazine soon. It was amazing to interview these special young ladies and their coach. More importantly it reminded me of how much I love writing. If you're thinking of an eid gift for the young lady in your life please consider subscribing. Mags like this need our support. This ESPN piece shares a bit of what they're about.

Of falling dishwashers

The dishwasher. fell. on me.

I opened it to take out the clean dishes.

I crouched to pull out the fork basket.

And it (by which I mean the entire dishwasher) leaned over. and fell. on me.

Between squirrels in the attic. Leaning mailboxes. Falling dishwashers...

This homeowner is exhausted.

An Open Letter

To my school's MSA:

Every day during Ramadan, steps from my class, you serve iftaar. I appreciate that. Chicken tikka, goat biryani, fruit salad, pepsi. Thank you. Really.

BUT- Hosting iftaars is not just about plopping food infront of people, wiping your hands and smilelessly walking away.

This is my third year attending your iftaars. I still dont know any of you. When it comes time to open fast I walk over. I see you all talking in your small groups clustered backs turned to me in tight intimate conversations. I feel wrong intruding but it's Ramadan, the season to not only feed hungry folks, and grow inner spirituality, but the season for community, that is the whole point of group iftaars isn't it? So I try making conversation to which I invariably get a polite nod, an awkward smile, as you turn back to giggle about something I certainly am not privvy to. I feel like a highschooler with two pigtails, pink braces, thick blue rimmed glasses and a checkered skirt held up by suspenders approaching the cheerleaders with a wobbly lunch tray asking if they would please be my friend.

Am I too old? I'm not that much older than you guys. Are you intimidated by me? Its obvious I don't bite.

Despite your lovely meals, the lack of warmth makes me feel like a vagrant at a flourescently lit soup kitchen rather than a member of your ummah, your sister.

And that is why you haven't seen me recently. Instead of the warm biryani and the honey glazed chicken, you will find me sitting by myself in the dimly lit student lounge with my frozen meal and a vending machine soda. That is a particularly sad way to open fast when you, my fellow brothers and sisters, are just steps away.

I'm not trying to marry you. I'm not trying to become your bestest friend ever and add you to myspace to chat into the wee hours of the night. All I'm trying to do is get a bite to eat and see a warm smile that makes me feel a sense of brotherhood for a few minutes before I return to class.

Sometimes we get so caught up in the act. the ritual. we forget the spirit that should run like a current beneath it all. And the spirit behind the motions are perhaps as important, if not more so, than all the rituals combined.

Just a thought,

Aisha

"I wanted to buy a candle holder but the store didn't have one. So I got a cake"

And other random thoughts....

Job Jitters. Still waiting to hear about "dream job." In my hopes to land this job I feel rather like an anxious suitor who just asked for the hand of the girl he's loved for three years and she rolls her eyes, yawns and says "We'll see." Like any lovelorn suitor I find myself daydreaming about it with a goofy grin. Checking my email and home answering machine. Constantly. Butterflies. I want to gab about it all the time to anyone who'll smile sympathetically and pat my hand saying "its okay, if its meant to be it will" to which I find myself wanting to cry "NO! ITS MEANT TO BE! DONT YOU SEE? IT HAS TO BE!" I'm a love sick puppy and just like any anxious suitor, if rejected, I will probably need plenty of tissues, chocolates, and chick flicks and a good heaping of "it wasn't good enough for you anyways!" <-- though the latter would be a blatant lie as it certainly was good enough for me, but rather I, who was decidedly not good enough for it, trite condolences would still be very much appreciated.

Healthy babies. My externship at the children's hospital makes me appreciate health on a new level. You know when pregnant folk say "we dont care what we're having as long as its healthy"? I never felt so strongly about that until meeting these kids. People suffer from things you can't imagine. Some in India kill perfectly healthy baby girls because they'd rather try for a son instead. (Ofcourse, sonograms have reduced this practice resulting instead in soaring female abortions resulting in a disporportionate amount of boys) The orphanages in China are filled to the brim with heathy beautiful baby girls due to the 1 child per couple policy (which was enacted in 1979, the year I was born. That just sent chills up my spine. Life is so much being at (or born in) the right place at the right time.) These folks need to spend a day at a children's hospital. Perhaps it could give them a slap of perspective to see the heartbreak of parents and their children.. it may make such concerns for a son seem... criminal.

** Mitch Hedberg

One Year Later

It's been a year since Pakistan's earthquake. In the warmth of my home I wonder how many are cold. When hunger grips as I fast I wonder, how may have grown used to such pangs. Or how uncle is today. If you're donating please consider Edhi, they've done a lot for Pakistan's affected. One year later. I certainly haven't forgotten, but have I done enough? I don't know.

Why you should keep in mind your mom reads your blog when posting

Ami: I read your blog. It says you are feeling bad.
Aisha: yeah, its okay, I'm fine.
Ami: I saw the picture, beta*.The boy, he fell. On the door. With his books.
Aisha: no no! its a Far Side comic. Its a school for the gifted and the gifted boy is pushing on a door he's supposed to pull.
Ami: Well... I'm still concerned.

Note to self: don't scare mother with blog.

*beta as in urdu word for child. Not beta as in second letter of Greek Alphabet or mathematical measure of the sensitivity of rates of return on a portfolio. Seriously.

Vapid Aisha

Maybe its the fasting... or the hectic schedule... or my neighbor's new found fascination with restoring cars and the incessant "zoom zoom" at three second intervals... but I just feel drained and tired and not particularly interesting. Vapid. infact. Is that correct usage? It sure sounds fitting (I refer you to exhibit A on the left for clarification of current self image). Ever have one of those..weeks? *sigh*

The problem with expectations

If you hurt me I have a hard time forgetting. Its like a scar branded just under my skin that flares everytime I see you. I dont get hurt easily, but the one that stings most painfully is the one that happens most frequently: insincerity. If you are my friend there is very little I wouldn't do for you. The problem is I expect likewise from others and when I don't get the phone call in a time they knew I needed it the most... or a comment is made that reveals something I did not expect.. my heart breaks a little, and to self preserve, closes off forever. Life is too short to spend with people who are insincere. Why sit and chit chat at parties and meet for dinner dates when you know that if you needed them, you could not be certain they would help you even if they could?

I wish I could just take people for what they are and not let it get to me. Life is full of different people and you can't expect everyone to be the same. Perhaps they never meant to hurt me and I am sitting here needlessly turned off. Perhaps I have hurt others inadvertently and have never known it. Most people who are hurt by someone shrug their shoulders and move on. I've seen people who despise one another sit down at a diner party, smile, laugh and have a grand old time. I can't do that. I'm incapable. I will smile stiffly, I will look at the clock. Remark on how lovely the weather is. The discomfort is plain upon my face. But they have no idea. So who do I hurt? me. Only me.

If you live in this world you can't expect the world to play by your rules. I wish I could learn to accept this and not demand unformity in others in this aspect for it leads to a smaller ever shrinking social circle.