The other shoe, so to speak

Reading Dooce's latest post today shook me because it captured exactly how I felt:

"A singular thought has followed me through my life, the thought that because there are other people in the world who don't have it good as I do, other people who do not have a warm place to sleep or food to eat... I need to worry about something, anything. That I owe it to those who have a harder life. That because I am very lucky I need to suffer crippling anxiety to even things out a little bit. And of course, the exact opposite is true. I owe it to those who are not as lucky as I am to appreciate the hell out of my life, I know this fundamentally, I just can’t get around the guilt I experience almost every hour over the fact that my life is really good when so many in this world have lives full of ongoing tragedy, an overwhelming feeling that if I am not a stressed out mess everything will be taken away from me."

I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For example, Kashif's friends tease me about my redialing-Kashif-tendencies (i.e. redialing frequently if he didnt answer the first go around). I redial because my mind goes into worst case scenario mode. Until I hear his voice all I feel is the knot in my stomach growing with each redial as the other shoe slips further off the ledge in my mind's eye.

I wait for the other shoe to drop because I feel that I am undeserving and unworthy of the good in my life. And I feel guilty. Yesterday, a professor congratulated me on my fellowship and mentioned another candidate at another school waiting to hear back. They had tried out for the same spot as me. I thought of how sad they would be that they didn't get it. I felt so guilty my stomach hurt. Kashif looked at me like I'd been taking crazy pills. "Do you want it?" Well, yes. But I feel bad.

A lawyer at a firm who helped me prep for the interviews called to congratulate me and teased me "are you on cloud 9? are you just through the roof??" Why can't I just enjoy a moment? Why must I apologize for it? Why must I feel guilty? Why can't I just let the joy sweep me up and carry me on its wings for a brief moment instead of spending the time preoccupied about my unworthiness?

My fellowship enables me to help low income sick children with their educational access. I will fight for better services for them. I will educate their parents to advocate for their children. I will advocate to school boards to rethink their policies. I am doing this because I love children. Because I want to make social change. Because I want to give back to society. Because I want to please God. But aside from the selfless desires, its a prestigious fellowship and its a first for my school. Its not booko moolah but its booko prestige. That part brings out the guilt: Why did something so good happen to someone so undeserving? I feel guilty about helping sick kids?!

Dooce put me in a tailspin as words were attached to unspoken feelings in my heart. If you made it down this lengthy post.... thanks for listening.

Nur

Have you ever met someone who has a special aura? Its something instantly upon their face. I call this nur (light). As though a light is twinkling from their eyes giving you a glimpse into their soul. It's more than being a good person. It's more than being kind. Its deeper, it's stronger. It's hard to put it into words. Kamal the owner of our favorite Turkish establishment who smiles telling the most absurd stories, yet you can see the nur dancing in his eyes. Lucia from college who could make me forget my worries or at least see them in a different light. They make you feel comfortable as though you've known them all your life though they perhaps only entered your life just a moment earlier. I've never asked, but I wonder, do they know?

This week it was a full house. With exams around the corner, papers creeping up to say "boo!" and the normal apprehension that comes from being a host for almost a week to a houseful, I felt stressed. As I stood in the kitchen heating haleem, simmering chicken korma and checking on the naan, feeling absolutely overwhelmed, Kashif's mamu arrived, and I saw it again. He had only just walked in the kitchen, smiled and shook his head saying the obligatory "you shouldn't have" and then I saw it: The sincere smile, the way he made everyone laugh despite themselves, the twinkle in the eye. The infectious way it spread to everyone. Nur.

I've always tried to quantify the qualities that bring about Nur. Is it the manner in which they interact? The way they talk? The things they say? I want to know so I can emulate it. I want the Nur. I want it to shine from my soul through my eyes touching those I encounter just as those with Nur do mine. But perhaps Nur cannot be acquired. Perhaps it is only bestowed. If you're fortunate enough to meet someone like that you should be thankful, and savor the joy they leave behind lingering like fragrant jasmine.

And for the record I am NOT a monkey

Thought I'd share the most interesting ways people found me!
Aisha broke my ankle- no... I didn't...
I wish I was never born- aw..that is sad... find help here
Aisha hates Borat- no... no I do not.
Technical difficulties of my life- again.. here.
Aisha the fabulous- why... thank yew.
Aisha Turkey- hey!
Aisha Monkey- No I am NOT!

Dream Job Update....

I GOT IT. Thanks for all who thought of me, rooted for me, believed in me. I stressed for so long I'm unsure what to do with this new feeling: disbelief, relief, joy. All the times I talked about it (here, here, here, here, here, here, oh and here) thanks for reading and not throwing a jug at the screen telling me to QUIT IT (or perhaps you did. If so, I am deeply apologetic). Alhamdullilah.

I'd hate to be a giraffe with a sore throat- Mitch Hedberg

I'm trying to follow Mitch's lead and retain perspective as stress levels rise bringing all the accompanying symptoms. (I know, my stress is nothing compared to others: 1, 2. 3. perspective is key) Current stressors: Exams, bar apps, Thanksgiving weekend and underlying it all- dream job anxiety. When the phone rings, even at 9pm, I wonder: Is it them? (Lawyers work late hours, so it could be right?) I know if its meant to be, it will but- I really want it to be. Looking through my archives I came across this where I talked about what kept me going during a tough teaching year. Its what dream job would let me do. Proof that I wasn't bluffing when I told the interviewers that this is something I've always wanted. Is there anything nerdier than having "job angst"? I am a broken hearted teenager staring at the phone wondering if Bobby will call and ask me to be his date for homecoming. (Except I never was a broken hearted teenager waiting for Bobby to ask me to homecoming) Still- it could be worse, I could be a giraffe- with a sore throat.

Thanksgiving thoughts**

Thanksgiving's at my place this year and it will be my first time cooking Turkey. I'm stressed because people will be here eating my Turkey... oh and did I mention its the first time that I will make Turkey? I really really hope it comes out.. edible. I'm not asking for much. If its edible, I'll be pleased. Speaking of Turkey do any of you brine it? How do you put a brining Turkey in the fridge?

Growing up we never celeberated Thanksgiving. Not out of any personal conviction, it just wasn't a holiday my parents grew up with so they viewed it as a day steeped in tradition for Amriki's- not them. This changed Thanksgiving 1992. Hurricane Andrew had come and gone and the five of us were cooped up in a two bedroom apartment which smelled of wet dog. I remember sitting on cushions as me and my little brothers watched TV, moping, as our parents got ready to go for their daily stroll. I remember feeling quite sorry for myself.

I dont recall how it happened. Maybe we were watching a show of a big cozy family sitting down with happy faces to Thanksgiving dinner but for the first time I wanted to have Thanksgiving dinner too. Immediately my brothers and I got to work. We flung open all the cupboards, the pantry and the fridge as we scavenged to make our very first Thanksgiving Meal. I handled the toaster while my brothers rushed to set the table with mismatched plates and glasses. When my parents arrived, they were quite surprised to see three smiling "chefs" presenting them with Thanksgiving Dinner consisting of a medley of canned pineapples, buttered toast, chicken cold cuts, and a bowl of chickpeas. I can still remember my father's smile. It was our first Thanksgiving dinner together, and certainly the most unique, but it certainly was not our last.

This Thanksgiving there won't be any buttered toast. There won't be any chicken cold cuts and there certainly won't be any pineapples from a can. And I can handle all these changes. But the hardest part is not being able to see them. This Thursday as I mash the potatoes and prepare the stuffing they will be in my heart. Though many years have since passed, the best Thanksgiving still remains the Thanksgiving of 1992.

** Because this song captures the feeling better than a 1,000 words. How many of us get weepy listening to this song? *sigh* or is it just me?

Dream Job

First, thank you so much for all of you who called, e-mailed, and i.m'ed wishing me luck on this dream job. Some of you did not even know what it was, and yet you believed in me. You dont know how much it helped me as I walked into the interviews.

Speaking of which, interviews are over. It felt intimidating to sit at the head of a table as five attorneys with impressive backgrounds grilled me on every point I made. I hid my intimidation well. Though some of their questions shook me, I was determined the smile would not leave and even if my answer would have to be "I do not know. I am an imbecile." it would be said with self assured poise. (which I never said!)

I can explain a little more of dream job now that interviews have wrapped up and there is nothing left to do but to wait and the competition is also doing as me- waiting. I created a project from scratch, mine is designed to help low income chronically ill children with their access to education. I pitch this idea to a fellowship organization. They read the proposals and pick the X amount they think have promise and send them off to sponsor law firms who will fund the project. The firms pick three of their favorite proposals and invite the drafters in for interviews. Mine was selected by two.

This was a big deal for my school because I'm the first to be selected for an interview. Many people have high hopes for me to get this. Though I gave it my all, there is no guaruntee. Infact, for several reasons I now have a sinking feeling I may in fact not have gotten it. At least I did the best I could though. If I dont get it, I will be sad. very sad. Going to my analogy of my being a starry eyed suitor for "dream job"... I guess I'm at the stage where the girl has agreed to marry the guy but only if her parents and two big overbearing brothers named Hugo and Marcus with heavy duty mustaches and matching red and white striped shirts love him too.

As I roll it over in my mind, and fight the sinking feeling that I may not have gotten it. I can't help but wonder what to try for next. I have a few ideas but the amount of love and emotion I put into this project... to not get it... maybe now you can understand why I may feel a tad broken hearted if I fail. Then just as I was typing this post, Will and Grace was playing faintly in the background. I just happen to look up as this scene unfolds: Grace is asking Will why he only left her $300 in his will and he says when he wrote it he was a broke law student and it was all he had. I had to share the conversation they have:

WILL: I tried to rewrite that will so many times. Every time I sit down to make a list of everything I have, I just feel like I have nothing.
GRACE: Will, you've got everything. You've got your health, friends, family. You just made partner. And most importantly of all, you still have all your hair.
WILL: It's just, the guy I am now is not the guy I was hoping to be when I wrote that will in law school.
GRACE: Oh, come on.
WILL: No, I'm serious. I-I never thought I'd be just another corporate lawyer with a lot of stuff. I wanted to accomplish... more.
GRACE: Will, you are young. Whatever it is you want to accomplish in your life, there is still plenty of time to do it.

Perhaps some of the meaning it held is lost in the written word, but that scene stopped me in my tracks. It meant something to me. Its things like this, small minute things, that keep my faith going. That tell me to not lose faith, that there is plenty of time left to find another avenue should this avenue not be open for me. Some of you may read that dialogue and think I'm looney to find some meaning in that exchange. But for it to come on a day that I am feeling as I am- I can't help but think its more than just a coincidence.

On a brighter note....

I normally see a movie in the theatres only once every six months but these last two weeks I saw two opening night movies (Borat and Babel, reviewed here and here). I guess I prefer curling up on the couch with my throw and a cup of chai being able to RR, FF, pause. Though I had a good time I had a few "irk" moments, so thought I'd share a list of my top five do's and don't for movie goers:

Don't stick your feet to rest on the seat ahead of you if someone will then have to sit next to your dangling stinky feet for the length of the movie.

Don't continuously poke the seat in front of you with your feet if someone is there. If you are incredibly long legged- good for you. Sit in the front row.

Don't think that just because you are standing to the side of the theatre chatting on the phone while the movie is playing that we can't hear you. Leave the theatre.

Don't ask me to buy your movie ticket because you're sixteen and thus underage. The teacher in me will not permit you to watch Borat no matter how much you plead.

Do card me. That was fun:

Sandy:can I see your license"
Me: huh? why?
Sandy: I need to see how old you are
Me: Is there an age limit?
Sandy: *examining id* yes there is
Me: You're kidding me!? Am I too old?
Sandy: *speaking slowly* no... its a rated R movie... I'm making sure you are of age.

D'oh.

Twinge

When I was teaching and a part time law student my coworkers used to tease me about how in a few short years I'd be banking major money as a lawyer. But lawschool is not a "ticket to the deluxe apartment in the sky" You can graduate and start at 200K or 20K. Same education. Same school. And it does not always correlate with "The better the student the better the pay" The director of the ACLU graduated #1 in his class with his pick of firms but he went public interest making a quarter of what he would have made otherwise living in a tiny one room studio and riding a bike to work. I'm a public interest girl. I went to law school to do civil rights work in some capacity. Dream job is a public interest job, if I get it, I'm not exactly going to start wearing gucci and prada upon graduation. And it never really bothered me until today.

In preparation for "dream job" I had several mock interviews at some highfalutin fancy schmancy law firms. I felt I walked into Cribs- Law Firm Edition or Lifestyles of the rich and famous firms. Sleek contemporary furniture, abstract art encased in gold frames, hardwood floors, marble conference tables, winding stair cases and imposing conference rooms.

I felt a twinge. A desire to sit at such tables. To smile at the receptionist in her "Apprentice" like seating and walk up the winding staircase. It felt strange to sit with these lawyers as they advised me on strategy for my interview. I felt the way I would walking into Ben Affleck's mansion, sitting by his olympic pool as we snack on caviar and he helps me learn how to become an actor but only in small independent features- not blockbusters. A part of you just kind of twinges seeing all the duniya knowing what could have been yours if you had wanted it when it all began. It was a fleeting feeling but I felt it and the way it made me feel surprised me.

Dream job interviews are just a few days away and I'm nervous because its exactly what I want. And to be that close to my dream is frightening. However, life doesnt say "that's okay I'll wait" while I prep for interviews. So much is happening at seemingly breakneck speed. I'm preoccupied, worried, and feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother- Khalil Gibran

Exceedingly deep thoughts

"How can I lose faith in the justice of life, when the dreams of those who sleep upon feathers are not more beautiful than the dreams of those who sleep upon the earth?"- Khalil Gibran

"How can I lose faith in the justice of life, when the traffic jams of those who drive Hummers are just the same as those who drive Honda Accords?"- Aisha Iqbal

As my camera phone proves, traffic jams see not race, nor color, nor wealth- to it we are all the same: stuck. They are the great equalizer.

It broke

By it I mean my ankle. Being as I never had a sprained ankle before I just assumed that's how sprained ankles feel. Everyone says they hurt and swell and make you hobble all peculiar-like. But it wasn't going away, infact it was hurting a little more each day. So I went through a series of logical reasoning: I have insurance. It's for when I don't feel so good. I don't feel so good. So I went to the doctor who X-Rayed the foot and told me I have a fractured bone. To which I replied: "No I do not. My dream job is interviewing me next week. I am wearing black heels. I have to wear my black heels with my black suit" To which she paused for a moment perhaps wondering if I had injured my head in the fall too and responded "no, you will not wear your black heels, you will wear this air cast for now, and then after orthopedics you will wear a cast or a boot. No black heels" The nurse perhaps sensing my distress assured me no interviewer would hold a cast against me when judging my professional appearance. She pointed out that it wasnt like I was walking in with a pink head of hair. True.

My friends pointed out that its a good conversation starter. Except my story is not that exciting: I was going to talk to my professor and missed a step and fell. *yawn* My brother suggested that I say that I was on my way to do something noble when I saw a baby carriage rolling down the street and in my valiant efforts to save it I tripped and injured my foot!

I feel slightly better about the lack of cute black heels for the interview but the dilemma remains. What do I wear on the other foot? The doctor recomends sneakers but there is NO WAY I am showing up to a law firm in Adidas. I know the girl on last season's Apprentice had crutches. what did she wear on her other foot? Doesn't one heel look silly?

This may sound sordid but as a kid I used to envy the kids that came to school with the white cast on their arms or legs because the other kids go to sign it, the teacher gave them candy, and all the kids wanted to be their friend so they could try out their crutches. I remember one day saying to myself as a six year old "Gee I hope i get to have a cast one day" 21 years later I am reminded that one must be careful for what they wish for because one day, when you least expect it, it just might come true!

On Flavor of Love and the media in general

I just read a very interesting article. The author discussed two classics that hypothesized about the future: Orwell's 1984 and Huxley's Brave New World. Both are about societies that control every aspect of our ability to express ourselves but in different ways. In 1984 Big Brother is watching. Books are burned, the TV spies on us, and we fail to think out of fear. In contrast, Brave New World imagines a different society. No censorship or thought police. None needed. We are hypnotized by nothingness, foo foo, and fun.

The author, Wickham, explored Huxley's fears: "What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one... Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance [and that] we would become a trivial culture." Wickham used Vh1's Flavor of Love as an example of Huxley's fears: "if you think Flavor of Love 2 is innocent television fare, you're wrong... Our media are our metaphors. Our metaphors create the content of our culture. And shows such as Flavor of Love 2 dumb us down and define us to others in ways that ought to cause an awful churning in our national gut."

I don't know if the media gives us Paris Hilton's latest exploits in bigger headline and with greater exposure than other issues like Dar Fur because WE want it, or because THEY want us to not think too hard lest we hurt our brains. But I do know they are intentionally shielding our eyes. Look at the following covers of Newsweek all published the same week in different regions (sources: here, and here):

When discussing current American apathy in my Human Rights class, a student rolled his eyes saying "We are a superpower like Romans of old. Why shouldn't we be focused on celebrities instead of politics? We've got a good life. And other countries? They need to learn about us. Why should we care about things that don't affect us?"

Because we live in a democracy and its important to be informed about our country and its happenings? Because to whom much is given much is expected? Because we are in a position to make a difference even if the only difference is that we read about and then shared for a fleeting moment the pain of a fellow human being sharing this world that grows increasingly global and interconnected each day?

Reading about TomKat's latest weirdness is definitely easier to think about, and I'm not saying that no one needs downtime to read entertainment sites/mags (like this!) But when that's all you read, and all you know, and all you care about- its troubling.

"Cut the stargazin' yo, move somethin'!" Talib Kweli

why children are funner to teach

A student brought in her toddler (let's call him Bob... Jr.) to class today. His enthusiasm for the material, when compared to ours was a bit.. more..

Professor: Evidence of the beliefs or opinions of a witness on matters of religion is not admissible for the purpose of showing that by reason of their nature the witness' credibility is impaired or enhanced.
Us: *silence*
Bob Jr.: ooooooooooooh!!!!

Professor: Do we ever forget the importance of Rule 403 as we analyze other rules?
Us: *crickets*
Bob Jr: *standing on chair* NO! NO! NO! (he was right)

And so on, and so forth for approximately four hours... Kids, bless their hearts, they're even excited about Evidence.