Monday, November 27, 2006
I hate weddings especially family weddings cause undoubtly talking will begin on how everyone is dressed, what hairstyle they have, what food is being served, how much money was spent etc. Its everywhere you turn and I can't stand it. The chickenheads trying to outdo each other with their dance moves and gyrating their bodies to the floor just so that they are seen as cool. Its a ritual that I fail to understand. The same girl you see doing the nasty with the floor will be wearing an abaya tommorrow and telling you she is sanctified and holy. Its like they conviniently forget the camera is trained on their butt shaking the whole time. I told my mother I am not cut out for these kinds of events. The only ones I seem to be comfortable in are the ones hosted by somali sujuis, and maybe those are because they tend to just focus on celebrating the union instead of all the other lil evil things that most somali weddings seem evolved to become about. I hope it will be another four years before I attend another wedding!
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Last night as I got home from work, I sat on my bed contemplating my horrible day. My head was pulsating with an urgency, signaling the ever present headache. I reach out to grab my bottle of water and a couple tablets of my topamax. I knew it was no use because the migraine was going to be full fledged within an hour, but that didn't deter me from being optimistic. My head had barely touched the pillow when I heard raised voices from the living room. Not wanting to get up from sheer lack of energy, I listened to canopy ensuing between my younger brother and my younger sister. I told myself that they were old enough to resolve their differences without me getting involved each time. "Leylaaaaaaaaaa! Leeeeeeyla!" screamed my older sister as the tumbling of bodies echoed throughout the hallway. Pissed and irritated I get my butt out of bed to play the mediator. This was not a good day for me and I was stupid enough to believe I would find peace in this house. I walk into the living room to find my younger sister lying on the floor ,my older sister's body shielding her from the blows my brother was throwing. I almost burst out laughing but realize the seriousness of the situation and take action instead. I quickly maneuver my body in between my brother and my sisters. Planting my weight against the sofa I pushed him off them and turned my steely eyes to him. "What in the Hell do you think you are doing?" I yell. My older sister helps the younger one up and they all start speaking at the same time. I turn to the younger girl and tell her to shut up because her voice grates against my nerves. Facing the 5 ft 9 " teenager who seems to be ready to pounce on me, I ask my question again this time counting off my exasperation at this show of idiocracy.
The argument begun with my sister donning a pair of jeans and my brother, "the wadaad", ordering her not to step out the house with the jeans on. I smile as I listen to how passionately he positions his argument. Meanwhile, the chickenhead is slowly seeing that she will come out on the rosy side of things and start clucking her head off. I let her blow off stem for a while and pretty soon a shouting match ensues between her and her assailant. She turns on her heels and grabs the phone threatening to dial 911. He beats his chest and states he is not scared of 911 because his religion assures him he is right. My older sister looks to me for intervention and I can't be bothered to mother these two adolescents. I claim my phone back from the chickenhead and tell her to sit down and let me deal with this. She doesn't pay me any attention and keeps grating on my nerves with her shrill voice. **Slap**, I let my palm make my point, she instantly shuts up and sits down.
I turn my attention back to the so called "man" of the house. I lay down reasons why he can't raise a hand to her. She has parents who are living and breathing, she is not your wife nor your daughter, she is her own person and the most you can do is advice her on her course of action. "You and your western values, who do you think you are?" he throws it back in my face. I calmly look him in the eye and smirk, "I am the one who pays for your roof and your food." He opens his mouth to retort something but instead chooses to go to the bathroom to take a shower. I breath deeply as I try to fight the urge to punch the stupid out of him. I face my younger sister, by now she has a golf sized bulge on her head. I grab an ice pack from the freezer and slap it in her hand, after which I go off on her. I tell her how dumb she is that she can talk back to people but can't defend herself against a beating. She is asinine because this is the second time I bailed her out of an ass-whuping, courtesy of my brothers, due to her afka dheer. The last time she ended up with a grapefruit sized knob on her head. I shake my head at her and tell her to lie down. I grab my phone and proceed to let their mother know what happened and let her deal with the punishment.
The rest of the night went by relatively quiet. I sat up in my bed trying to nurse my migraine when my other sister came in from her night classes. I share with her the events of the night and we share a good laugh over how childish the squabble was, but we both understand there is a deeper issue we need to address; our brother's aggression against women. He seems angry at the world and more at women than anything. I can't seem to find an inlet in his psyche that I can penetrate and explore why he feels the way he does. My sister and I talk about the numerous ass whupping I used to deliver to my older brother everytime he felt an urge to exercise control. I used to be a tom-boy in my hey days and didn't take crap from anyone especially a man. If he could swing from the branches, so could I. If he could dive from the highest diving board, so could I. If he scored so many goals in soccer, I would work to score twice as much as he did. I was competitive and brazen. My best friends were male and I formulated my male ego, but I digress. My uncle had christened me Tyson. I had the knack of showing my frustration by punching something or somebody, but if I recall right he called me Tyson because one time my brother and I had a fight and my brother tried to defend himself by tangling my body with his and scratching my arms and face to stop the flurry of fists. I ended up doing more damage than he did, plus he left evidence of his attack while mine melted into his skin tone. The next day, my dad watched me out of the corner of his eyes noticing the scratch marks. That evening as my brother walked in from masjid, my dad lay in wait for him with a TV-VCR wire. I felt sorry for my brother at that time, but I remember thinking that he was learning a critical lesson and that was never to lay a hand on a woman. I can't help but make a comparison. I wish my younger brother could learn his lesson now otherwise I fear he will carry this mentality with him throughtout his life. The mentality that he is the man and therefore all should do as he wants. That he free to punish whenever & whoever he feels like. I am now scared of leaving the younger ones in his care due to his aggression.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Each player of this game starts with the “6 weird things about you”. People who get tagged need to write a blog post of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names (Sunshine).
- I sound like a white woman with no accent but look like a black woman, even my mother sometimes thinks I am white when she calls my job and I happen to pick up the phone. I also sound younger than I am and often mistaken for my younger siblings.
- I carry a book and camera with me everywhere I go and stop to take pictures when I feel moved to.
- When I am nervous, there is no infliction in my voice. I could be nervous and sweating during a speech but you can never tell from looking at me. I project confidence.
- I am too intune with my body. I can skip my monthlies just by telling my body, " I can't deal with it this month, I'm too wired". I can also tell when I am about to get ill and how long it takes me to recover. Often this also translates with me being able to diagnose other people's ailment to the T.
- I am fearless of everything except needles, but alhamdullilah I am getting over that fear these days.
- I suffer from an odd form of OCD. I like everything in their place and if its not I can't work. When I come into my work and find it messy, I clean it up before i can begin filling prescriptions but on the other hand in my room its a form of organized chaos. I know where everything is and if anyone moved it but to others its a disaster area.
So now I have to tag six other folks to air out their quirks. I tag:-
- Angry Somali Man
- Pucca &/Idil
- Doubting Thomas.
Ps:- I have no delusion as to how many of those tagged will actually participate. Godspeed.
Friday, November 17, 2006
There are a bunch of people sleeping outside today in the cold. Why? Because the Playstation III is coming out tommorrow. I was huddled into my coat, sweater, sweatshirt and gloves as I walked past weirdos just like these. Ok no offense, but what is so important about this system that you would be sitting out in the cold air to get it? Is it going to prevent world hunger? Going to cure AIDS? I just can't see the logic behind this. There are only going to be 400,000 available for sale in the US. Whats more bizarre is the madness thats going to occur in the morning as people push and shove to get in the door first. The madness is going to be people paying $ 7000 for the system on Ebay and my friend is one of the people selling it on Ebay. The day I will mimic this behaviour is the day that anyone is welcome to take a shotgun and take a shot at me.
Photo by TGdaily.com
Thursday, November 16, 2006
We all know that babies have their own language. Hell most of us have tried to imitate them by going "goo goo gah gah". Did you know that you can understand what their cries mean? Each cry signifies a need that will stop the endless fussing that mothers go through trying to figure out what their child needs. No matter what race or culture, all babies, between 0-3 months, use these five basic "words".
Priscilla Dustan, an Australian mom, has a photographic memory for sound. She was on Oprah plugging her cd coming out on 11/27 and she showed examples (clips) of what these sounds are like. Inshallah I will be getting the cd and add it to my library. I think its such a wonderful breakthrough and a lot of mothers not to mention children will be better off from it. On a side note though, most mothers do develop an understanding for their child's needs but there are some mothers who do not develop this connection. For these mothers its absolutely horrible and they go through depression and sometimes do harm unto themselves or children because of it.
The second article was about Dr Mel Levine, a pediatrician from Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Dr Levine has a theory about children and learning. He believes that all brains are wired differently. Though many critics cite his theories as unfounded, the speech I heard him giving was full of Aha moments. A website with more information is www.allkindsofminds.org. I probably will pick up two of his books, A mind at a time & Ready or not, here life comes. Intrigued? Here is an excerpt of his speech:
Ricky is a sixth grader with a brilliant imagination and advanced language skills, but he can't write. That's because he has trouble handling spelling, punctuation, grammar, letter formations and facts all at once with a sheet of paper in front of him. Adults call him lazy, and he is fast becoming a 'bad' boy.Then there's Beth, a bright kid who gets stymied by sequences of anything – multi-step instructions or math problems, or even presenting her ideas when she talks or writes. Her classmate Wendy is an effervescent red-haired girl of many talents who nevertheless endures constant frustration because she has serious problems remembering what she has read, even though she can understand the content quite well. As she puts it: "Whenever I read, each sentence erases the one that went before it."These are examples of children with normal or superior overall cognitive ability who are contending with differences in the wiring of their brains, subtle but important neurodevelopmental variations that impede their learning productivity and enjoyment of education. In addition to deficiencies in basic skills – such as reading, writing or mathematics – some of the manifestations are less obvious. The kids may have difficulties managing time, expressing ideas in language, remembering facts or problem-solving methods on a test, understanding key concepts or gaining social acceptance from peers
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
On a sadder note, I am bed ridden with a cross of bronchial infection and pneumonia. Its unpleasant especially when I keep getting night sweats each night. I finally broke down and went to the doc and now I am on a strict regiment of antiobiotics which lets face it if its viral I might just as well pull a rabbit out of a hat. Only light to my day was finally watching Da Vinci Code and getting a round trip ticket to Cairo for $900 bucks. I am such a trip addict and I am anal about planning everything and at the last moment throwing all my plans to the wind and just living in the moment. I am getting plenty of tips from friends and I even found out that my brother in law's brother (is there one word to say that?) lives there, so I can get to see the other side of my sister's nuclear family. Obviously there is that tiny itsy wintsy problem of not knowing where I will lay my head once I get there but I am fully confident that Inshallah it will work itself out.
Gerald Levert died last week of a heart attack. He was the son of one of the Ojays and was once a member of LSG. I remember many a night me listening to his album the G-Spot. His musical contributions will solely be missed. In an era where music leaves little to the imagination, Gerald knew how to croon to a lady's heart.
I think I have to quit because my head is stuffy and I can barely get enough oxygen in my lungs. Dress warm and always disinfect surfaces because you never know what germs might be lying in wait for you.
Ps:- Has anyone noticed a pesky pop-up everytime my page pops up? Anyone know how to address this issue? Or do I just write to blogger staff and let them deal with it?
Thursday, November 09, 2006
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance...
our long way home.
I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out of time.
When the first stone looked up at the blazing sun
and the first tree struggled up from the forest floor
I had always loved you more.
You freed your braids...
gave your hair to the breeze.
It hummed like a hive of honey bees.
I reached in the mass for the sweet honey comb there....
Mmmm...God how I love your hair.
You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance.
Lost, injured, hurt by chance.
I screamed to the heavens....loudly screamed....
Trying to change our nightmares to dreams...
The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance our long way home.
I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out
in and out
in and out
by Maya Angelou
It is what spices up life. Yet, when we seek it, it is never there. We impose our definition of it when we do find it & in one swift motion kill its purpose.Our trials and tribulations mold our view of love. I started off rejecting the notion of love, progressed to embodying it and finally like everything in life I ended up where I started. Love trancedes gender, race, religion, tribe and everything in between. Love is universal and it is this trait that makes it a scarce commodity. It sends shivers up your spine and in the same instant it can bloody your nose or worse break the very organ that beats its rhythm. The rhythm that resounds and is amplified by the weakness in my knees, my tummy doing the cartwheels and the inevitable rush of blood to my loins. 'Tis a bittersweet fruit this love but I am entraced by it. It weaves a web around my writhing body as I try to escape. Leave me be, I yell. This ride is not yet begun comes the swift answer as the beating of my heart increases twicefold. I twist and turn, look south and north but never at the object of my frustration or should I say desire. The clock chimes the witching hour and I cringe for time is a bitch to chase. Must be due to the two xtra hands it possess. I got you NOW, as I manuever into a more comfortable position. I look up and gasp, for the image I see is me alone, haggard and alone. All this time I was running away from myself and time wasn't even a factor.
Monday, November 06, 2006
I was visiting my cuz this morning when he made me watch this clip from youtube.com I didn't understand everything about what she said but something about her voice and the way she seems to convey her message pulled at me. So, can y'all help me out in translating the whole thing? Much appreciated to anyone who does.