Home is where the heart is. That saying has never felt truer to me than it does now. From Thatta to Karachi to Queens , full circle and to this little town in Mississippi, I have always been home.

Anytime I have been homesick, it's when I was without my mom. When I was younger, it would only be a few days till I burst into tears, but a couple weeks before I would fully appreciate her return. In a way, its still the same now. I miss her incredibly when she's gone. But now it takes very little time to realize all that she does and is, in her absence...and I can hold out longer before I cry.

What home is has changed, what it means hasn't. It's still the place I can let my hair down, and genuinely laugh (however strange it may be). It's where the silence is never awkward, and your words are heard for all that you mean in them. The enthusiasm shared, the optimism abound, the sighs or tears are uninhibited. Where the arms are always open to hide in, the shoulder available to cry on, the tea is hot and the emotions flow freely.

SubhanAllah...what I would give to be home again...

Noble knights on white steeds, prince charmings, stunning brides, and princesses...everyone is coming out of the woodworks. From my distant family, my childhood friends, my real-life & virtual muslim sisters, and even the non-muslims in my community (classmates)...everyone is getting married, engaged, or having babies. MashaAllah, and its not even spring yet.

The last post seems to come off sadder than I had intended(which wasn't much...sad wasn't an adjective I would use). It is only the reflections on a lifelong relationship, which despite its ups and downs will endure (inshaAllah).

Here are some pictures from our trip to Jackson.

This is on the natchez trace. It goes from Nashville to Jackson. My sister drove all the way down, and in the city. When we were on our way back, traffic was bad and I offered to drive. She insisted she could handle it, so we went along our merry way (reciting plenty of du'as). After about 5 wrong turns and being completely caught up in heavy traffic without any idea where we were, she turned to me and said, Sammerai I think you should drive now. =) What else are big sisters for?

On the way down, we saw a sign for an "Antique Shop." Intrigued we stopped to check stuff out. This bike from (circa) 1952 for 15$ was one of the high quality things we saw. The store didn't open to 12, but from the samplings on the porch we decided not to wait. A sign on the door also invited us to sell things there. They "Buy junk, Sell antiques." Haha...they are pretty slick. That car in the back is us...not an antique. Just a sign of stereotypical desiness.

While waiting for the doctor, we got some chocolate ice cream. I poured some hot coffee into mine. MMMM. We also took some silly shots, posing as we indulged in the ecstatic delight that is .50 cent chocolate ice cream. I'll spare you those.


After the appointment, we went to Olive Garden. My sister was a bit embarrassed that I was taking pictures there. She told me, it's just Olive Garden! Ah, little does she know...
I ordered my Four Cheese Shrimp Tortellini, and sadly they ran out of it. No Four Cheese Shrimp Tortellini for me. Khair InshaAllah. I had something else instead, and Alhamdulillah it was pretty good. My sister got something that looked equally yummy. We ordered the much anticipated Tiramisu, and mmmmmm. It was fantastic. Alhamdulillah. The big surprise was when we recieved the bill. She didn't charge me for my entree. Woo hoo! Alhamdulillah.

There was shopping, and the getting lost, but Alhamdulillah that was about it.

I do not know any other man, or even person for that matter, who can tear apart my heart with the swift and effortless motion he makes with his eyes. It is easy to lose one's appetite, motivation, and any feeling of well-being. I did not give him this control over my emotions. I have thought about this for a long time, and I did not give it to him. This has always been there, it is something which he has because of who he is. I can not claim to have known love, or been able to describe love before, but never did I realize how love can cause just as much grief as happiness.

In Jane Eyre, Mr. Rochester tells Jane...

"There is a string tied under my rib to my heart, and I imagine there is one tied to you in a similiar fashion. I am afraid that this distance will make the string *snap* and I shall bleed inwardly."

The difference between the string between us is that he holds his end of the string in his hand and can tug and twist it at will, without the reciprocal pain. At times I may feel hatred, but I don't hate him. I cannot. I hate that he has such control over me... in the truest sense, control over my actions through manipulating my emotions. Wallahi if I ever have any personal preferences they are overriden by his. It is only my faith which I have the ability to hold above him. May Allah grant me the ability, sabr, and strength to persevere... if mountains can crumble then so can we... ameen.

We live our lives divided. When you tell me you're tired, I empathize because I've felt tired before. I don't see the strain in your eyes or hear the softness of your voice because its worn out. I don't know the tenseness in your muscles or feel how much you just want to pass out on the nearest soft surface. I don't know your pain, joy, anger, dissapointment, sadness, or love. From a distance,I can only guess from what I know of these emotions. Knowing of your troubles I pray for you, and I think about you. I wonder how to make things easier for you, yet I'm powerless to do anything, so I continue making silent prayers, offering to listen when I can.

What makes me realize this disparity between our lives, our joy, our problems, our worries, is even as we do all that we can for each other, we fall short. I fall short of everything I can do for you. For that, I hope you can forgive me.

That's "tag." MashaAllah, he is almost 4 and 1/2 months old. I spent a couple hours with him this afternoon, while his mom went to work. He ate, and then mostly slept. He also ate, while he slept. =) MashaAllah, very easy going kid. It was really nice as he just laid in my lap and snuggled up in the bend of my arm. I told his mom, I'm sorry I don't come to see you anymore... its all about him.

Broken up, deep inside
You won't get to see the tears I cry
Behind these hazel eyes...

...I told you everything
Opened up and let you in...

Now all that's left of me
Is what I pretend to be...

My baby's got a heart of stone
can't you people just leave her alone
she never did nothing to hurt you
so just leave her alone

The motion of her tiny hands
and the quiver of her bones below
are the signs of a girl alone
and tell you everything
you need to know

I can't explain it
I feel it often
everytime I see her face
but the way you treat her
fills me with rage and I
want to tear apart the place

You try to tell her what to do
and all she does is stare at you
her stare is louder than your voice
because truth doesn't make a noise

For the Love of Allah (subhana wata'ala)

Often we may hear/see people doing inappropriate things, we might be one of those people. When we are reminded about these things, we may say that Allah (subana wata'ala) will forgive us, because He loves us. That may very well be so, but being forgiven of persistant transgressions shows the love and mercy that He has for us, not the love we have for Him. If we love Allah(subhan wata'ala) we will not continue to do that which is forbidden in hopes of forgiveness. But rather we would strive to avoid anything and everything which He dislikes.

I wish I had the exact narration, but it was something like this: a man was praying in the masjid very hurriedly, and then prayed to Allah (Swt) for jannah. Umar (ra) saw him, and said, "with that?"

It made it think more carefully about my salaah. Why don't we dedicate more time and sincerity to it, when we know that it will weigh heavy on our scales of good or bad deeds?

May Allah (subhana wata'ala) make us of those who love Him, and whom He loves.

polar bears

and panda bears, but you know what else? koala bears!!

Wide open

I feel like I've been ripped wide open, torn between the right, what feels right and wishing desperately that I was only 6 years old again forever. It's no one's fault, I've got no one to blame...not my parents, not myself. It's just the way things are... and I have to deal with it. May Allah grant me all the patience and sabr and strength I'll ever need to reach Jannah, ameen.

Poetry

This semester, I have realized the power of words, and the power of silence. Words selected to incite, entice, passify, enamour, and even words to merely purge ourselves of all our feelings are powerful because they can cause change. They can cause us to change our perceptions, our ideas, our paradigms, and even our actions. Reading some of the poetry from the likes of Shelley, Poe, Browning and Browning, Wordsworth, Arnold, and Tennyson has left an impression on my life. " I am a part of all that I have met (or read)."
I am not a poet, so I will not attempt to move others by my poetry, but if only to release these emotions which I'm not sure how to express. Perhaps only the leniency of poetry will allow for its oddness.

they hold my heart
in between their hands
every gentle caress
and all the little pinches
to all the big punches
leave me raw

If they came to know
Thier tears,would tear to pieces
& we'd never know peace and wonder
what will become of the
heart held wide open
or the heart closed shut
between their hands

Do I deserve it?

If I am not honest and frank, am I deserving of the honesty of others?
If I am not open and trusting of others, am I justified in feeling hurt when they are not open and trusting of me?
If I take others for granted, can I be upset when others use me?
If I am not a good friend to others, can I complain when I have no friends to comfort me?
If I never sincerely love, does it negate my need for love?

Sleep, be gone!

I used to have a problem with falling asleep all the time. Then I started taking my iron, now... I can't sleep. Partially because my brain won't stop thinking. My sleep has also become lighter, and I wake up much earlier than I normally do, and go to bed much later as well. Alhamdulillah, it gives me a chance to catch up on my work, and earn some hasanah. Now if only I could stop with all the thinking... =P

Real update to come after finals...

After 585.00 cups of Hot Cocoa, you'd be pushing up daisies.

It would take 273.00 cups of Brewed Tea to put you down.

After 240.88 cans of Coca-Cola Classic, you'd be pushing up daisies.





Slowly puts down cup # 272 of chai....=S

Di-am oday

**blows nose**

This whole week, I've woken up to a mixture of surprise and grumbling. For instance, I woke up tuesday wondering why there was a large bear beating up my brain, and why he was so bright. I tried to ignore him, and roll over...go back to sleep, but he was just hammering away. As I finally got out of bed, I realized the bear had escaped leaving me with a migraine and incredible sensitivity to light. Mean, mean bear...I will double check my windows from now on, so bears don't sneak in.

and now, my nose is running like a tap, but it sounds like its stuffed up. Alhamdulillah ala kulli hal fee kulli zamaan wa makaan.

I finally signed up for my classes for next semester... i have about 30 hours...=/

yes, it will kill me. =P

I also have the pleasure of taking bus.cal.1...woo hoo!! I made my brother promise to help me, inshaAllah we'll see how that goes.

My little brother made me chai last night, and i fell asleep before i got to drink it... now i have stale chai ... i might warm it up and have some. I don't know how/why I woke up at 1 am... but I did, and I can't go back to sleep. Hence the blogging update... the poor update =P.

**blows nose**
take care that you don't catch a cold or get sick. May Allah protect you, ameen.
ma'salam

One and Twenty till Death

**eh ehm**

Poe, Shelley, Wordsworth, Coleridge, & Keats: Some of the greatest English poets (and perhaps this observation transcends languages) were all incredibly young when they wrote their "masterpieces." It was in the fervour of their youth, their newly-awakened senses to the world, their idealistic perceptions, their polarized complex views of pain, love, suffering, endurance, beauty, nature, and death, which amount to what are contemporary literary standards. I would even go so far as to say, what they wrote in this short period during their own lives, has influenced the perceptions of our entire society. They have left an impact on so many from their ideas.

This is not something novel, or exemplary in itself. What I found truly remarkable about them, was that they made these observations and wrote these words of depth, beauty, and wonder at such a young age. In their early twenties, most people of our time are grappling with trivial concepts. These men dealt with poverty, families,children, wives,work or lack thereof and yet had the insight, the depth the... I'm not sure what the word is, the genius (?) to extract some lessons of life from it. They put into words their pain, suffering, their love, and epiphanies that are so poignant even today. They tell us of our emotions better than we can describe them ourselves.

Why is it that now at twenty-whatever we usually see parties, immaturity, confusion, and/or apathy of the world around them? In the words of a twenty-whatever that I know, " I'm worried about me right now, not what is happening half way around the world." Their are few that care about others, or even the insight and depth to care about themselves.

Why do we think that twenty-whatevers have yet to become what they will be, or what they will be remembered for? Why shouldn't they aspire to achieve good things, perhaps even great things in their youth? We have lowered and lowered the bar to a point where even if a 21 year old exhibits the carelessness of a 6 six year old, it is acceptable.

To those who think they will do great things later in life, why wait? Do whatever you can at this point, in this moment... UTILIZE your youth for you, not against you! Carpe Diam!!

**steps off soapbox**

Doubt

I wonder why exactly have I chosen English. I'm not particulary good at it, nor is my writing of any superior caliber. Even as I type these words, I question the ones I have chosen, their position, the thought, the idea. Your career should be something you're good at, what if you are mediocre at everything that interests you? What if even at your full potential you are barely up to par? I've always set a high standard for myself. Despite working at about 70%, I've made decent grades, written decent articles. I don't know if I do have another 30% to even work up to. Maybe I'm kidding myself by saying I'm not working up to my potential. Maybe this IS my potential. Maybe decent is the best that I can do. A thought worse than never reaching my potential, is to reach it and find out... I'm just mediocre.

It wasn't curiosity that killed the cat, it was mediocrity which murdered it.

If it were, as it may that I should move on and die today
In the early hours of dawn, should a lifeless body be found
Amidst the clutter of books, should I fade away
as the adhan rises softly in the background

If it were, as it may that I should move on and die today
What of those whom I have left behind.
Would even a silent tear be shed
long after I'm buried dead or soon to be a forgotten memory.

If it were, as it may that today I begin my afterlife
What care would I have of those still alive
What is their opinion of my leaving, or of my life?
My only care is where will my soul arrive?

Is this light-weight backpack sufficient for my journey
will I fall short and end with eternal burning?
Oh Allah! Forgive my soul of my sins and spare me from the fire
It is only Your pleasure and jannah that I desire

The Clod and the Pebble

Love seeketh not Itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.

So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet:
But a pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet.

Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.

-- William Blake

Are you a clod or a pebble?

Another day, another blog

Asalam alaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuhu

So this is officially the eighth blog I've had, and the rest have pretty much been abandoned. Either it was because of disuse which lead to forgetting the password, or the server going down. Anyhow, the muttaqoon blog is still alive. It's hooked up to an artificial respiratory machine, but "alive" none-the-less. I'm working on something decent to put up on there.

As for this blog, I really only made it so that I could comment on Fatima's blog. Then I had a little bit of time on this beautiful Ramdan, Saturday morning, so I decided to post something. It's purpose is yet to be determined. I could post up my English, and education work...my "observations" of the socially awkward, lanky, uncoordinated, apathetic beings that are known as teenagers.

They are an interesting bunch. They noticed their English teacher's poor grammar. =/ Honestly, it irked me too. She said, "Get out of the floor." You're not in the floor, you are ON the floor, so you have to get OFF the floor, not OUT of it... There are other instances as well. I'm not a psychotic grammar freak(as long as I vehemently deny it, everyone will believe me), but at the least an English teacher should have impecable grammar.

Oh, by the way, a belated Ramadan Mubarak!