4/28/2017 – general updates, ponderations

It’s April 28, 2017. I know I don’t need to iterate that, since it’s probably everywhere on the screen, but it’s glaring at me. I have only published twice in the last year, and less than 10 in the last two.

I miss blogging. I miss writing. I miss having more time to myself. But a lot has changed in such a short amount of time.

One minute, I’m grabbing a coffee on my way to class, thinking about graduation and getting excited for my wedding. The next, I’m grabbing a coffee so I can handle the day alone with my 7 month old little girl; my husband at his job in D.C.

I think about frames of mind quite a bit, how your daily experience shapes who you are and how you perceive everything around you.

I see the busybody grad student and think, “I wish I could go back there, so many dreams! So many possibilities.”

Now two years later I see her at the grocery store, baby in one arm and a shopping basket in the other. I see that she’s there during work hours and unbeknownst to everyone around, she actually does have a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree. But maybe that’s not obvious with her mismatched hijab, trousers, over-sized blouse and casual Nikes. Oh, and bouncing, relentless baby.

But I don’t give myself enough credit. I’m taking care of three, sometimes four or five other people. I cook, I clean. I tolerate. I’m not just a holder of proofs of education. I carried a baby for 9 months, often painfully and in sickness. I had that baby cut out of me unexpectedly one night, but she was still perfect. All 5 pounds, 8 oz of her. She is still perfect, even though her mother might not be.

I went through post-partum depression. A battle I still fight peripherally with anti-depressants and a variety of obsessions (oh, there have been plenty…lipstick, crochet, and iced coffee).

I take pains not to let my daughter look at screens so much, but hilariously, I’m always surrounded by them myself. Imagine telling your child to be quiet and look away, while you desperately seek escapism through your Instagram feed. Try telling your mother and father in law not to let the baby watch Television, while you plan to catch up on a Netflix show later on. Go on, laugh at me trying to cling to my habits and motherhood at once, I’ve done it. Then I’ve shrugged helplessly and continued on.

It’s a mad juggle, honestly. You can cook a perfect meal, do the dishes, some cleaning, and do laundry later. Or you can do laundry now, make a somewhat decent supper, do the dishes, and save the rest for later. You can sleep when the baby sleeps, or you can use that time to do something for yourself. You can go to bed early and be energized for whatever life has for you the next day, InshAllah, or you can watch a movie with your husband. But you can’t really compromise on being a mother.

That’s 24/7, 365 glorious, exhausting, completely incredible days of the year, InshAllah.




My Sodding,Good-for-Nothing, Irrational View on Love.



Prepare your selves for a bit of a rant.

I’m going to explain to you, yes, YOU, my view on love.

And I don’t give a flying emu’s crap whether or not you think it’s primitive or fantastic or crazy or depressing…because it probably is, and I’m well aware that is, because it’s caused me enough goddamn problems.

My friend once referred to herself as “green-eyed rage monster” in relationships, because of how jealous she could get.

I was like, yep that pretty much sums it up.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for that Enya-type of love where you “give it wings” if it leaves and if it comes back it’s meant to be.

But…while you’re IN LOVE with someone, and you know they’re IN LOVE with you… DAMN.

Is it wrong to make that person a priority? As in Hell-No-I-Will-Not-Consider-Other-People…

Because I don’t consider anyone else. If someone lands into my heart randomly, well, that’s different. I wouldn’t go out of my way making room for other people if one person has already filled it.

And I don’t get what the hell is so wrong with that. And why I can’t get the same. If someone loves you…well they better love YOU. And not open the door for another person to walk in and claim their heart.

Is that bad? Is it bad to just…want to be enough for a person? Not everything. I can never be everything to one person. And one person can never be everything to me. But can’t I just be the only one they need romantically? As a best friend? The only GIRL they need? No?

Is it bad that if I’m with somebody and a girl EVEN looks at the person I’m with it makes me want to scream a war-cry and plant a flag into the guy’s shoulder?! HELLO!! HE’S MINE!!! Do. You. See. The. Flag? DO YOU?

Oh, I am Muslim. So this whole premarital love thing makes it a bit difficult to explain…especially since I can’t really do anything about my feelings.

I guess this is something else I need to add to my list of flaws (it’s quickly becoming a book). I’m pretty sure this doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.

Um. I guess. Loving somebody doesn’t make them yours. Them loving you doesn’t make you theirs.

But…if you love each other?

I really think that you’d want to be each other’s. Regardless of whether you’re married to them or not.

And I think, sometimes, that’s enough. It’s enough to love each other, want each other, to commit to one another and work towards a future together. Isn’t that the right thing to do?

Isn’t that what you do with love? Harvest it, nurture it, grow a garden out of it, and reap for the future?

If you’ve got love…don’t let it sit around, PLEASE!!!!  Don’t give up on it. Turn it into something amazing, beneficial. Plant the seed and grow your garden with the person you LOVE. (Hello!! It’s LOVE!!!  TAKE CARE OF IT! FREAKING MARRY EACH OTHER.)

I just…the world confuses me.

What I think, isn’t. What I want evades me. What I don’t want always finds me. Turning to Allah is the only refuge I have.

It’s honestly enough to make me turn into one of those people that becomes a recluse, drives a beat up truck, and lives in the woods.

And have a  vocal, huge, fat cat that has a cool name. Like Marcus. Or Atticus. Or something with -cus.

And a horse named Bill.

Maybe a hawk named Fred.

Call me crazy! I don’t care!! I’m a green-eyed rage monster and I don’t care. Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care.

I’ll be single all my life and become the crazy woman that everyone talks about. At least I know what love is!! (oh my god i just said that).

And hey. Mr. Prince-Charming of the Obscure-ish Future or Confusing Present. (you know who you are)

WHAT THE HELL are you doing? Get your shiny, chain-mailed butt off that goddamn white horse and get over here. We need to have a serious conversation about your timing. And your sodding, good-for-nothing, irrational view on love.

Yours sincerely,

Irrational in Ohio.