<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496</id><updated>2012-01-26T17:55:31.108-08:00</updated><category term='Poetry'/><category term='Happy'/><title type='text'>Sammerai</title><subtitle type='html'>For record keeping purposes.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>124</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-1425437615611946311</id><published>2009-01-18T16:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T17:00:20.619-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I'm not sure why it makes me uncomfortable, but it does. I usually don't tell people that my family is Shi'a. When you meet me you might think, oh, typical desi girl that's wearing hijab. For the most part I am a typical desi girl. Except my parents and extended family are staunch Shi'as.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;So for the past 9 years, I've argued, debated and in more recent years tempered our differences by remembering they are my parents and family. I give precendence to the fact that they are my parents. I ignore things that I can. I bite my tounge more than I would like to. I treat them better now than when I first had my differences with them. i don't say this as self-praise, if anything it is /was implementing the most common emotion and action of a child...to please their parents and to want love from them. To be cared for by them, to be able to hug your mom and act normal around your dad. This would not be possible if I continued to talk about religion. I conducted a balancing act between keeping them happy and pleased with me, without overlooking the major points of disparagement between us. I didn't want to anger God while making them happy, so I didn't quite give in to everything. I hoped we had gotten to a point of mutual co-existance. Since I was obviously not influencing them to convert, they were now "ok" with me not being Shi'a. However, that was not quite the case.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;In fact, I am still 15 years old standing in front of my parents, hoping they'll for once HEAR and LISTEN that I'm not being brainwashed. I'm not being spiteful, or ungrateful, or hasty or ruining my life. Sobs are choked in my throat for never being given a fair chance, my hands are quivering from holding in the anger that I can not show, my jaw is clenched holding back the angry words that don't have much to do with religion anymore, but are there because I don't feel like a human being anymore.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I hate loving them because it can shred my principles to pieces and I have to continuously fight that.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-1425437615611946311?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/1425437615611946311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=1425437615611946311&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/1425437615611946311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/1425437615611946311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2009/01/im-not-sure-why-it-makes-me.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-5436635076469717087</id><published>2008-11-11T20:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T08:29:27.522-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;For pictures click &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2152760&amp;amp;l=7e18c&amp;amp;id=6514118"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Almost as an opening ceremony of going back to school, we all shopped for new crayons, pencils, books, backpacks and clothes. Laying them out, putting them together the night before the first day of school. Even though we were a messy and unorganized the rest of the year, the first day was special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many of us were filled with fear, that our parents wouldn't be able to afford sending us to school that month or year, that we would be wearing old clothes, or have no new supplies? How many of us went hungry because although we were sent to school, there was no lunch money?&lt;br /&gt;We probably haven't thought of these things because they are so common, so inexpensive and so prevalent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are those who do worry about that...even if a month's tuition is only $10, even if a new box of crayons is only $1. Although inexpensive to us, with a few children in the family and incomes being equally low, many families struggle to send their children to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a small school in the city of Thatta, Pakistan. It was built about 6 years ago by my uncle to help increase education and literacy in the impoverished area. Children from ages 3-15 attend the school where basic subjects like Math, Science, English, Sindhi, and Islamic Studies are taught. The teachers are given training sessions a couple times a year. There is a great deal of hard work and effort being made to make this school a nurturing and rich learning environment for these students.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be going there soon and I would love to help those families who are struggling. Please donate and be a part of this change! There are no international organizations, benefactors or celebrities promoting the education of these children. There are struggling parents and eager children who would be filled with gratitude knowing that if even for one month, they would be able to breathe a little easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;InshaAllah the plan is to divide the funds into two parts: tuition scholarships and a resource fund. The scholarships will be distributed to the families with the most need and the students who have high achievement. The resource fund will go to buying books on practical education methods and techniques and putting together a two day workshop for the teachers. Please check out my album for more photos of the school and kids&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please let me know if you are interested.This is an opportunity where even the smallest donation can make an enormous effect. Donations can be sent through Paypal ( zremmas @ gmail . com ) or mailed in. If neither of those is convenient please message me and we can arrange something. The deadline to donate is November 22nd, 2008&lt;br /&gt;If you have ideas, suggestions, or encouragement please post that here as well. These are just as important as monetary donations.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-5436635076469717087?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/5436635076469717087/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=5436635076469717087&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/5436635076469717087'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/5436635076469717087'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2008/11/for-pictures-vhttpwww.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-4973860105407542996</id><published>2008-10-30T19:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T19:53:58.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've always had this desire to record and document everything in my life...mundane or exciting. I'm not sure why... maybe hoping I can flip through the pages one day and see what value my life has had. But this is me in early 20's. Why did I want to do that when I was 10. I can remember narrating everything as it happened, like a novel, as opposed to just watching and letting it happen. Imagining that I would go and write it all down...I did write down some of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-4973860105407542996?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/4973860105407542996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=4973860105407542996&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4973860105407542996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4973860105407542996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2008/10/ive-always-had-this-desire-to-record.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-1087517621580278679</id><published>2008-09-19T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T08:24:21.834-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Finding the Perfect man...</title><content type='html'>Between Mark Wahlberg, Shahrukh Khan, Denzel Washington and Mr. Darcy, the idea of an ideal man is embodied in every aspect of culture and society. The perfect physique, smile, hair, intellect, wit, wit, wit, humor, manners, romance, bookworminess and athleticism, as if that in itself isn't difficult enough...throw in a whole new set of standards of God-consciousness and the examples of the Prophet(saw) and the Sahaba and you have a whole new, more complicated, unrealistic and impossible picture in mind about not just the ideal man, but what is a MAN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who came up with this stupid idea that we are supposed to get the perfect man or "the right one" and we're ALL going to get him, right? Where is this unlimited supply of perfect men coming from? I'd be interested to see just one.&lt;br /&gt;It's very overwhelming because if he is not all of these things then I can't be happy! Right? right?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This train of thought has a list of flaws. Firstly, questioning the whole notion of a person being responsible for your happiness is calming: It's not all up to him. Your happiness is in your hands, with your outlook, reactions, and personality; relying on an everlasting support and connection with Allah is also really important.  I used to think that getting married would solve all my problems and it would magically transform my life into one of blissful love, romance, support, companionship and of course, happiness. Any black holes and empty spaces of emotion and eman would be filled by this one perfect man. I didn't allow myself to be happy because I was waiting for this savior.  I hope girls don't believe this because its such a stifling state of being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a feminist in that I want girls to be empowered by themselves, their faith, through being productive and cherishing the relationships they have with their family and friends; not waste time hoping, seeking and pursuing "happiness" in the form of a man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now that I know he's not going to be responsible for my happiness, he may be a source of it. Secondly, we've interacted with other human beings, we notice even if they are nice, kind, witty, funny...sometimes they are angry, frustrated, stupid or just strange. If all the REAL people around us falter then we're being delusional thinking this one man is going to be perfect. Especially when in a marriage you are going through some of the most rigorous challenges that you will probably never have to deal with with others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thirdly, I wonder how many of us have thought this completely through...we don't actually want someone who is perfect. For one, we would go nuts because we aren't perfect. We would either hold him under a constant microscope looking for flaws or question his perfection as hypocrisy or being fake. It may be annoying and also highlight all our own shortcomings resulting in low self-esteem. Have you ever been around an overachiever? How long can you really be around them? live with the 24/7?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, once I can be realistic about what married life is not (a bollywood, lollywood or hollywood movie), I can have a better idea of what it will be by looking at the real life examples around me.&lt;br /&gt;Although...there are bound to be some surprises.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-1087517621580278679?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/1087517621580278679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=1087517621580278679&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/1087517621580278679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/1087517621580278679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2008/09/finding-perfect-man.html' title='Finding the Perfect man...'/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-4244161894245882814</id><published>2008-09-17T19:21:00.007-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T21:01:49.658-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hypocrisy</title><content type='html'>its such a recurring theme in my thoughts. If I see so much hypocrisy, it makes sense to look at myself from a distance to check if its rubbed off on me. So often, we beleive that we are right and they are wrong... in our blind arrogance we don't give the other person a chance. It takes a moment of humilty and an open mind of insight to realize that maybe we are wrong, and even if we're not at that particular moment, we can be... because we are falliable. And we can be so quick to judge, what happened to the 70 excuses we allow our brother/sister in Islam? What happened to thinking the best of people, not the worst? I don't think that exists in practice anymore. How about allowing them the one excuse that, we've all made mistakes and done things we regret..because we're human, and we learn through our mistakes. If anyone has ever been merciful to us, don't you think someone else is also worthy of it? I guess its the "pay it forward" concept. Also, Allah is merciful to those who are merciful to others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about why you pick the battles that you do. Do you even pick them? Is there a method to the madness or must you always be right? So if you are picking them... why those in particular? do they better your relationship with someone, with Allah(swt), does it set a wrong, right? or is it for egotistical reasons? Self-reflection is the key to seeking out your own faults and working towards correcting them. Yea, it may sound a bit new-agey but in all seriousness, we MUST be the ones to look inside and be humble enough to admit there is something wrong or something needs improvement. You can have all the people in the world tell you that you ought to change, but it won't make a salt grain's worth of a difference if you can't see it too...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-4244161894245882814?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/4244161894245882814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=4244161894245882814&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4244161894245882814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4244161894245882814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2008/09/hypocrisy.html' title='Hypocrisy'/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-2511324525042540120</id><published>2008-09-17T19:21:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T20:49:57.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All about Islam class</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id="95844_kdub2"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;August 22, 2004 from muttaqoon.blogdrive.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asalam alaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuhu&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't write about personal experiences in this blog, but there is an exception to every rule.  I know that Allah(swt) is always aware of my situation, and He knows when I REALLY am having a difficult time. Alhamdulillah, just when I seem to be down to my hands &amp;amp; knees looking for a way out the rut, He gives me something that makes me see the perfection and wisdom of Islam with such clarity as I had never seen before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today for the first time in 6 years, I set out towards a masjid that had classes for sisters with the goal of meeting sisters. When you live in an isolated area without Muslims you can practice Islam, but there is always an empty feeling because you're doing it by yourself. You don't have anyone to say salaams to, or hear "walaykom asalam warahmatullahi wabarakatuhu" back. Most people may take that for granted, but when I call my butcher's wife to ask her if the goat meat is in, and she says "Salaam Alaykom Warahmatullah" in that distinct accent my heart lights up. Allahu alam, I don't necessarily understand the feeling, but its a unity, a togetherness and a better sense of self that you get from other muslims.  (I get sidetracked...sorry)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, so the reason why I wasn't planning on learning much is because the class is really basics... like salaah and how to make wu'du and things like that. I wanted to meet sisters who wanted to learn as much about Islam as I did. Someone who loved it as much and someone who got excited when talking about it. Someone who would boost my eman and help be a reminder to me about the beauty of Islam. Someone who can relate to living in the "dirty south" as a practicing muslimah. As it says in the Quran:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"The believers, men and women, are Awliya' (helpers, supporters, friends, protectors) of one another, they enjoin (on the people) Al-Ma'roof (i.e. Islamic Monotheism and all that Islam orders one to do), and forbid (people) from Al-Munkar (i.e. polytheism and disbelief of all kinds, and all that Islam has forbidden); they perform As-Salaat (Iqaamat-as-Salaat, establish prayer for the rememberance of Allaah) and give the Zakaat (charity), and obey Allaah and His Messenger. Allaah will have His Mercy on them. Surely Allaah is All-Mighty, All-Wise."&lt;/b&gt; (At-Tawbah 9:71)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the true essence of the word, I needed Awliya'. Tangible Awliya at that. I had heard these horror stories about "corrupt" sisters in muslim communities. Sister's who were really harsh with new muslims, or even muslims who were just beginning to practice, or sister's who were really not practicing and arrogant. So, on the two hour drive over to the masjid I was a tad nervous. Not so much about the sisters, but if they would like me and if we would see eye to eye (I to I).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got in there and began to talk to the sisters it was incredible the amount of support and love and sisterhood that I felt. I never had that before. You don't really know how much you're missing out on until you finally see it for yourself. It's like someone telling you a Red Velvet Cake with Cream Cheese frosting is good, and sure it sounds good and you want it... but once you try it- it exceeds all your expectations. They shared their stories of reversion, or attempting to revert, of dealing with ignorant people, and even how they dealt with bouts of low eman. It made me see the beauty of Islam in way I hadn't before. How seamlessly it fit into these womens' lives just as it did in mine. How its made each of their lives better in their own way, and of course by making them people who are more concious of their surroundings, of their Lord, of their Purpose. Alhamdulillah. Alhamdulillah. Alhamdulillah. I am so glad that I went to that class it exceeded all my expectations. I didn't plan on learning much, but today I learned something that can't be learned from books. When you see Islam being practiced with sincerity, and the love of Allah in the hearts of people, its an automatic catalyst for your own eman. The class is going to be lead by the Imam of the masjid who is mashaAllah really good. I'm excited not only to learn more now, but also to be a more helpful and active part in the community. I think the point of this post is that if you know something is good for you, but you havent done it yet... take the iniative and do it. InshaAllah it will beneficial for you and you dont know how much longer you have left, so next week/month/year may be too late. And if you're running low on eman, pray to Allah(swt), He hears and sees you and He knows what is in your heart. Have faith and patience and InshaAllah He will make a way for you which you hadn't even thought of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asalam alaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuhu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-2511324525042540120?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/2511324525042540120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=2511324525042540120&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2511324525042540120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2511324525042540120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2008/09/all-about-islam-class.html' title='All about Islam class'/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-3761812706547499357</id><published>2008-09-17T19:21:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T20:47:59.532-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To Faith and Abbay</title><content type='html'>Faith, or rather intensity of faith... fluctuates. It reminds me of my cat in its subtle approach. You can get lost trying to find it. Look under the beds, the china cabinet, in the closet &amp;amp; when you're at your wits end, you look in the bathtub. Hm... so you resume your daily activity ... cuz you've got other things to do. You try to forget, hope she'll come back, hope she knows where to find you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of a long day, she emerges in your doorway. Strides in casually as though she had been waiting for you all along. The beautiful colors of her coat contrast off each other and the confindence in her stride remind you of how slickness is a built-in characteristic of a cat. She stops by the bed and measures the distance, leaps onto it as easily as she would take a step forward. Cuddles up close to your body and purrs. You feel her warmth, her breathing and the quick beating of her heart. And you're not upset that it took her so long to get there, or that she didn't come when you called, or hid from you so cleverly while you searched endlessly for her... you're just glad that now she's there. Now you can be in her company ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you feel so far away from God, when you begin to wonder what happened to that kid that bubbled with faith and love... the kid that was here just moments ago... and what happened to His presence and why don't you feel it anymore... you search endlessly and at your wits end, look for Him, for your faith, for your salvation in the oddest of places. You wonder how to look, if you should, if it'll come back. You pray that it does because now you're a shell of a person. Faith was the only thing that made you whole, belief in Him and salvation was the only thing that made this life seem worthwhile. As hard as it may have gotten here, you knew something lied beyond this life of materialism . And if you don't have that, if you don't know that... then your spirit is broken, if you can't beleive there is something better waiting for you somewhere... then... well, then your heart, and soul are dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you want it back bad enough though... and you pray, He listens. And in the subtlest way, at the end of a long day... it might be the smile of baby, or a verse, or a glance at the moon, watching the snow fall that brings her(faith) back. Or you realize that missing your faith to where you beg for it back... that is faith... and she (faith) comes strolling back in as though she had been waiting for you all along and you're just glad that now she's there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(sept. 04)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-3761812706547499357?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/3761812706547499357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=3761812706547499357&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3761812706547499357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3761812706547499357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2008/09/to-faith-and-abbay.html' title='To Faith and Abbay'/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-456015013570735257</id><published>2008-09-17T19:21:00.004-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T20:22:38.232-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In my skin...</title><content type='html'>It's taken me a long time to finally be comfortable in my skin. It's taken a long time to feel confident, to feel content and happy, despite sticking out like a sore thumb. It took a while to not look at "pretty" girls and feel jealous, wishing I could be thought of as "pretty" again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember very clearly, I was walking out of one of my classes(in high school), and a boy walked out from a classroom near-by. We were headed down the stairwell, but it was pretty crowded. He met up with another girl, and they both stood behind me as we inched closer to the stairs. He said to her, in a hushed whisper(which made it worse), " She's the ugliest girl in school."&lt;br /&gt;That very literally shattered my self-esteem and self-worth. Especially because I had just started wearing hijab, although my looks didn't matter much to me, the comment hit me hard. It's been a long time since then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hold my head higher now, I make it a point to not divert eye contact from women who are walking towards me. I am not intimidated. I am not ashamed. If you think I'm ugly, that's quite alright. My standards of beauty, and criteria for beauty are much different than what they were as a 14 year old in high school. Heba (from Jack and Bobby) said it well that this is me, saying yes to Allah, and to my faith, and saying NO, to the oppression and degredation, the exploitation of a woman for her body; that her sexuality should be flaunted and that should be the judgement of her value and self-worth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am worth more... more than what L'oReal can ever offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So like I said, I'm more confident now with myself and my faith (although I have so much to work on). I am happier now with the decisions I have made than I was while making them, because although there was faith in the righteousness of my decision, I now have "real world" experience in the benefits it reaps. Those who looked down on me before still may do so, but like Eleanor Roosevelt said, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(march 06)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-456015013570735257?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/456015013570735257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=456015013570735257&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/456015013570735257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/456015013570735257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2008/09/in-my-skin.html' title='In my skin...'/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-7625137373637097234</id><published>2008-09-17T19:21:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T20:21:44.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode to Beloved Papa</title><content type='html'>As my mother bore the responsibility of carrying me within her womb for nine months, and aiding in my sustenance through her body, so has my father cherished and continuously maintained his responsibility of my care from the moment of my birth till now. Whether it was physical, emotional or spiritual needs he has been my rock to lean on, and a true supporter and maintainer in every sense of the word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although sometimes it is his solidarity which has pressed me at times and tried my patience or even my sanity, I remind myself that the jewels put through the most extensive polishing are the most beautiful. Whether we agree on the path I take throughout my life or not, it is obvious from his voice, his demeanour, his gentle manner, and sometimes his aggressive manner that it is out of sincere love and concern for my well-being... in the dunya and akhira. My father is away right now, and I feel his absence more than I ever have before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will never appreciate the silent sacrifices your fathers make for you until you feel the pang of sacrifice yourself. But as we may feel some doubt or hurt in making the sacrifice for someone else...our hearts may question it, our nafs may try to pull us away from it, know that your fathers do not think twice about it. The smile upon the face of their daughter, or to see her successful means more to him than any worldly pleasure of his own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversely, the affections and praise, the happiness of my father is second only to the hapiness of my Lord. I have been blessed incredibly with a father who not only loves me naturally because I am his daughter, but because he has understood my emotions, personality and temperment. He takes all of these into consideration and never assumes that I am like other girls my age. My father doesn't spoil me, and Alhamdulillah I see his wisdom in not doing so and am a better muslimah for it: it has taught me patience and helped stifled my nafs' excessive urges for possessions in the dunya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My father used to be a professor of biology and loves to talk about it which works out quite well, because I am a biology buff as well. We also like to sit down during dinner and just discuss what is going on in our lives and things that are important to us. Alhamdulillah I am glad that the relationship with my father is this way, because I can have other friends, but only he can be my father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;"Whoever takes care of two girls until they reach adulthood - he and I will come (together) on the Day of Resurrection - and he interlaced his fingers (meaning in Paradise)." (Reported by Muslim) &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that as he has helped me and pushed me towards the straight path and attaining jannah, that I can be a path to jannah for him as well.&lt;br /&gt;(april 05)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-7625137373637097234?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/7625137373637097234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=7625137373637097234&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/7625137373637097234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/7625137373637097234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2008/09/ode-to-beloved-papa.html' title='Ode to Beloved Papa'/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-197509910120970189</id><published>2008-09-17T19:21:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T20:20:35.709-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nothing would feel the way this does...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div id="69008_kdub2"&gt;A week ago, I had to get the oil changed. As I was checking out, the man at the register asked me," Have you ever read the Bible? Or thought about becoming a Christian?" Usually this is towards the middle of a conversation, but this time it begun with it. I told him, " I have and it just didn't make sense to me." I explained a bit further. He said he understood, but he could never worship idols the way I did. Obviously he had a warped understanding of what Islam is. I clarified.. we worship Allah, Al ilah, The Diety... the Creator and Sustainer of the Heavens and the Earth, and all that is in it. The All Merciful, The All Seeing, The All Hearing, the Creator of Jesus, the only Diety worthy of worship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After he asked a few more questions. and I answered, he asked that I should meet his wife and stay in touch. I hope I do get to meet her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During English class, we were talking about the Rennaisance. The teacher was explaining that when King Henry viii decided to seperate from the catholic church (mostly so he could get a divorce without the pope's approval), calling the new church, "The Church of England", and created protestantism. She explained that although they kept alot of catholic rituals, they didn't have saints, or include Mary(ra) in their churchs. They were "purifying the religion, so it was just you, God and Jesus." Right, you God and Jesus. I spoke up... that it is blasphemous even according to Christ's teachings. Christ told the people to worship God, he himself called out to God, Allah(swt) niether begets, nor is he begotten. Why would you call out to Christ instead of calling out to the God of Christ. She saw my point...she moved on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reflecting on these experiences, it seems like maybe they understand the concept... but for some reason aren't responsive to the call. It's almost alien and foreign to them. Anything other than Tawheed , worshipping only and only Allah(swt)... relying on Him for my needs, believing that only He has the power to grant me something or deny me it, yielding that if only He was pleased with me and everyone in the world were not that I would be okay- anything other than that... it would eat at my conscience and my soul. I could not pray to Jesus(ra) to save me, or Mary(ra) to redeem me, or Ali(ra) to help me, or Muhammad(pbuh) to grant me what I desired. My soul would not accept it and my heart would condemn me. Like a foreign object found in the body, it would be rejected and my soul would pound the walls of such a hypocritical shell. When I know that none can save me if Allah has forsaken me, and none can forsake me when my Lord has saved me... then there is no way that even the tip of my finger would accept pleading to anyone other than Him and Him alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like such a simple concept. It's amazing how its been corrupted... I don't understand because the awesomeness of Allah (swt)'s power and ability is apparent in everything around us and everything inside us. and we don't even see all of it. Why must people set up limitations for Him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Verily, He guides whom He wills. May He guide us, and keep our footing firmly on the straight path to lead us to Jannah, and His pleasure, ameen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(april 05)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-197509910120970189?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/197509910120970189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=197509910120970189&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/197509910120970189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/197509910120970189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2008/09/nothing-would-feel-way-this-does.html' title='Nothing would feel the way this does...'/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-7841050461605735739</id><published>2008-09-17T19:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T20:17:17.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feigning Content</title><content type='html'>Contentment with little, and gratitude for what you have are virtues. Despite realizing their importance, and not being very worldy, in my heart these virtues always seemed a bit out of reach. I'd feign content, so that perhaps I wouldn't be counted amongst the ungrateful ones. I was content that I was alone surrounded by people who didn't understand, and didn't care to understand. I was content in the incredible amount of effort it took to make myself get up(no, not get up for fajr =P), and get through the day- without completely breaking down. I began to realize, this act I was putting on... might fool others. They'd think I was passive, patient, and could adapt well to change and bear the pressures of being a sore thumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was just an act. How long would it go on? Even if it went on forever, I was never at peace with myself. "Oh woes me!!" ( I didn't say it, but I sure thought it)... "Oh pooooor me!!! Having to put up with all of this wretchedness, this terrible lonliness." Pretty pathetic, huh? I would pray to Allah(swt) to get me out of this situation...every night with tears brimming my eyes and a choked sob in my heart. "Oh woesssss me!! Allah(swt) make my situation better!!" (I poke fun of myself a bit, but I was really in pain, its only in hindsight that I realize what was going on.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alhamdulillah, He(swt) did. I didn't get to run away to Yemen/Egypt to be an alimah. I didn't make a clique of muslimahs. I didn't get married to a brother(that's the best thing since sliced bread), and get a muslim community.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nope, but my situation got better,Alhamdulillah. I still live in the same area, with basically the same people, with a pretty non-existant muslim community. So how has my situation become better?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I began to let go. I realized if there is a problem that I cannot change, then I must at least change my attitude about the problem. If for no other reason than to stand to live my life(however long or short) and not desperately seek refuge from it (my own life!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really had to magnify everything that was beautiful to me, even here, in nowhere, America...and readjust the focus on things which I disliked. It might sound a bit "tree-hugger"-ish, but I would walk outside and simply breathe in the fresh air, and take in the smell of wet soil after a rainy day... feel the sun on my face. Bring everything back to the basics things in life, so that I could count my blessings and not that which I have been denied. There is so much wisdom in looking at the hardships of others. It makes you realize your own blessings. So what if I'm not surrounded by practicing sisters, Alhamdulillah ala kulli hal. That is definately a great thing to have, but for those of us who don't... you learn to live with it... There are people who do not have homes, or families, or food, or love. Some do not even expect these things in the near future. That helps readjust your focus. That helps make the contentment sincere. Not just feigning, but really being grateful to Allah(swt) for all that you DO have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever it is that I don't have, is nothing in comparison to what I do. I have no room to complain. If there is a problem that I can't change, or am not willing to actively take part in changing it, the least I can do for my own happiness and gratitude to my Lord(who is most deserving), is be grateful. Like Dave Ramsey says when people ask him how he is doing, verily in truth he answers, " I am better than I deserve."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We sure are Dave... we sure are.&lt;br /&gt;(april 05)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-7841050461605735739?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/7841050461605735739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=7841050461605735739&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/7841050461605735739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/7841050461605735739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2008/09/feigning-content.html' title='Feigning Content'/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-2682907688224099199</id><published>2008-09-17T19:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T20:14:54.723-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Is it cheating?</title><content type='html'>to revive this blog with old entries? This was published on one of my older blogs and I'm consolidating...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend and I were reviewing for our Seerah exam. As we flipped through Ar Raheeq Al Makhtum, we would point out important events and observations. We digressed as we started talking about how Medina is still reminscent of his(saw) presence. That when you walk down the paths, and through the fields... you realize, that &lt;i&gt;he (saw) &lt;/i&gt; was here. SubhanAllah, she felt that... I sighed, making du'a that I could go someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I used to listen to stories of the sahaba, the love and sacrifices they made for Islam, and RasulAllah(saw), it was always astonishing. They would give up their lives, their comforts, be tormented for someone who was previously a noble, trustworthy man, yes... but some of them did not even know him before the call of Islam. As I read more and more of the seerah, I began to understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the Second Pledge of Aqabah, Abul Haitham At Taihan, interuppted and said "O Prophet of Allah! Between us and the Jews, there are agreements which we would then sever(by signing the pledge)! If Allah grants you power and victory, should we expect that you would not leave us, and join the ranks of your people(meaning Quraish)? "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He(saw) smiles and replies : &lt;b&gt;"Nay, it would never be; your blood will be my blood. In Life and death I will be with you and you with me. I will fight whom you fight and make peace with whom you make peace."&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SubhanAllah!! No wonder his companions were so loyal to him, he was loyal to them!! That type of sincerity, love, leadership, wisdom... sadly was buried with RasulAllah(saw). Even in english it softens the heart, and makes you almost cry. The arabic will blow you away. How do you miss him, although you've never met him? It is only his wisdom, and beauty that you've felt faint and faded whispers of...yet you love him more than any other man. No wonder the sahaba would lay down their lives in the blink of an eye to protect him, and to preserve Islam...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-2682907688224099199?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/2682907688224099199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=2682907688224099199&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2682907688224099199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2682907688224099199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2008/09/is-it-cheating.html' title='Is it cheating?'/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-4511107987376665988</id><published>2007-10-09T14:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T14:12:16.327-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;When you're dreaming with a broken heart &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The waking up is the hardest part &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;You roll outta bed and down on your knees&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And for the moment you can hardly breathe &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wondering was she really here? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Is she standing in my room? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No she's not, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When you're dreaming with a broken heart &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The giving up is the hardest part&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;She takes you in with her crying eyes &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then all at once you have to say goodbye &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Wondering could you stay my love? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Will you wake up by my side? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No she can't, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; Oooooooooohhhhhhhhh &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hands? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my , roses in my hands? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Would you get them if i did? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;No you won't, 'cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;When you're dreaming with a broken heart &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The waking up is the hardest part&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-4511107987376665988?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/4511107987376665988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=4511107987376665988&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4511107987376665988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4511107987376665988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/10/when-youre-dreaming-with-broken-heart.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-3487882217976620522</id><published>2007-08-21T15:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T15:51:00.239-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wafaoon ki hum say tawwaqu nahi hai&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-3487882217976620522?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/3487882217976620522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=3487882217976620522&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3487882217976620522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3487882217976620522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/08/wafaoon-ki-hum-say-tawwaqu-nahi-hai.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-4725461252867610539</id><published>2007-08-21T15:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T15:27:05.522-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Drowned in sheets of&lt;br /&gt;feathery confusion&lt;br /&gt;in a twilight zone confounded&lt;br /&gt;by a hollow abyss&lt;br /&gt;fears come alive,&lt;br /&gt;reaching out to touch&lt;br /&gt;lips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Panicked&lt;br /&gt;cliched goldfish gasping&lt;br /&gt;for water&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-4725461252867610539?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/4725461252867610539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=4725461252867610539&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4725461252867610539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4725461252867610539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/08/drowned-in-sheets-of-feathery-confusion.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-8927211884966123352</id><published>2007-08-10T17:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T17:28:37.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>to me, you are perfect&lt;br /&gt;and i say this&lt;br /&gt;without hope or agenda&lt;br /&gt;my wasted heart&lt;br /&gt;will go on loving you&lt;br /&gt;(love actually)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-8927211884966123352?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/8927211884966123352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=8927211884966123352&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8927211884966123352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8927211884966123352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/08/to-me-you-are-perfect-and-i-say-this.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-3465840942033443460</id><published>2007-08-03T17:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-03T21:08:06.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This may be blog infidelity, but I have a blog on wordpress. &lt;a href="http://sammerinegypt.wordpress.org/"&gt;About Cairo. &lt;/a&gt;InshaAllah updates there may be more frequent later on in the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want to mush them all together and just use the nifty labels to differ in the categories...but I'm not ready to leave this one yet...&lt;br /&gt;If you read this one, then you'll know about that one. But not vice versa, which is semi-important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow...Here are some pictures of my apple pie endeavors. Not as great as my tiramisu, and again I'm banned from creating more fattening foods, but you have to have something to go with chai ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094665239525172402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RrPjCuttpLI/AAAAAAAAADo/9hqhsRQzZ5I/s320/applepie1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Mmmm, apples in a pie crust...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RrPjDettpMI/AAAAAAAAADw/RzbmcNft-_A/s1600-h/applepie2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094665252410074306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RrPjDettpMI/AAAAAAAAADw/RzbmcNft-_A/s320/applepie2.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The mess I made...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RrPjDuttpNI/AAAAAAAAAD4/gOyvgxOuUgQ/s1600-h/applepie3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094665256705041618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RrPjDuttpNI/AAAAAAAAAD4/gOyvgxOuUgQ/s320/applepie3.JPG" border="0" /&gt; &lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ready for the oven&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RrPjD-ttpOI/AAAAAAAAAEA/xp_wn5S3drM/s1600-h/applepie4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094665261000008930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RrPjD-ttpOI/AAAAAAAAAEA/xp_wn5S3drM/s320/applepie4.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Give me some pie! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-3465840942033443460?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/3465840942033443460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=3465840942033443460&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3465840942033443460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3465840942033443460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/08/this-may-be-blog-infidelity-but-i-have.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RrPjCuttpLI/AAAAAAAAADo/9hqhsRQzZ5I/s72-c/applepie1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-3596726197048109108</id><published>2007-07-30T17:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-30T17:35:22.772-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My first attempt at making tiramisu turned out much better than I expected. We finished off an 11 by 13 pan in just two days. My mother's warned me though, I'm not allowed to make it again for a long time otherwise we'll all become fatties =S&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-3596726197048109108?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/3596726197048109108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=3596726197048109108&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3596726197048109108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3596726197048109108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-first-attempt-at-making-tiramisu.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-3729949483244390523</id><published>2007-07-25T21:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-25T21:32:58.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I spend so much time writing drafts. Some of them I write in lighting speed, and realizing that the grammar, mechanics, spelling are not up to English teacher par, I never get around to editing them. I know all the other posts aren't perfect either, but most of them can be read well enough to understand what's going on.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe bullet points will be more effective in getting all this down:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. {edited}&lt;br /&gt;2. I'm burning through tealight candles like there's no tomorrow. I really like the musky or jean paul gauntier (complete with a french accent) smell, especially before bed. Except when it becomes too strong its kind of suffocating.&lt;br /&gt;3. I can swim!! Alhamdulillah. After 3 weeks of noodles, floaties, boats, tubes, and my personal favorite the purple air mat, I can float and swim with my head above water or completely submerged. I hated putting my head underwater for some reason for the first two weeks, but now that I can swim underwater, I prefer it 100 times over swimming with my head over water. in the deep end too!!&lt;br /&gt;4. I'm baking lots of brownies. It's a constant bake sale to raise funds for my trip. I will overnight brownies (marshmallow fudge, walnut, chewy, chunky, you name it) ! =D&lt;br /&gt;5. I'm selling my Touched by an Angel CD set, Under the shade of Scrolls (Muhammad al-shareef), and History of the Quran (Isam Rajab), and my complete Tafsir Ibn Kathir at very reasonable prices...and probably better than Amazon or half.com&lt;br /&gt;6. 25 more days...ah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-3729949483244390523?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/3729949483244390523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=3729949483244390523&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3729949483244390523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3729949483244390523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-spend-so-much-time-writing-drafts.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-8514075033915171970</id><published>2007-07-24T21:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-24T21:10:23.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Ever since my online astronomy class a couple years ago, I've really liked looking at the stars. I can't identify many of them and don't know much of the science behind it, but the few facts that I can remember are enough to have me oo-ing and aah-ing and getting a cramp in my neck. I suppose I could do that even before an astronomy class, but I've come to appreciate them and their Creator so much more. Really its because a little tiny miniscule understanding of the universe just opens you up to realizing how incredibly vast it is, and how incredibly tiny we are, and the Incredibleness of Allah.&lt;br /&gt;Someday, I'll be outside where there aren't any other lights...other than the stars. I'll have someone I feel very safe with near me. =D Then I'll be able to see a whole sky full of stars and I'll find Orion's belt, jupiter, polaris, casiopia, and the big dipper. InshaAllah&lt;br /&gt;The fact that I remember the most is that the light that we see from the stars is actually billions of years old! That's how long it takes for it to reach our eyes from wherever in the universe they are. That totally changes the perspective of time being "here and now" and the future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-8514075033915171970?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/8514075033915171970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=8514075033915171970&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8514075033915171970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8514075033915171970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/07/ever-since-my-online-astronomy-class.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-1346410374997149859</id><published>2007-07-14T21:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.249-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If tears could fix problems...&lt;br /&gt;we could cry until they were all gone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;instead&lt;br /&gt;with heavy choked lumps of&lt;br /&gt;sad&lt;br /&gt;in our throats&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wishing, praying, hoping&lt;br /&gt;resisting despair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;problems that aren't even "mine", but they are "ours" because this isn't about me or you. The heart strings are tied, taut under my rib on my flesh to under yours and on yours. Turning my head away from you to spare myself the sight of the problems doesn't stop the hemorrhaging, the  painful, jerking tug to get my attention again to watch our problems, our wreckage...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-1346410374997149859?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/1346410374997149859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=1346410374997149859&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/1346410374997149859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/1346410374997149859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/07/if-tears-could-fix-problems.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-4686223450134385957</id><published>2007-07-13T18:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T18:22:23.029-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.phdcomics.com/comics/archive/phd071307s.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 584px; height: 251px;" src="http://www.phdcomics.com/comics/archive/phd071307s.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/sammer/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-4686223450134385957?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/4686223450134385957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=4686223450134385957&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4686223450134385957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4686223450134385957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-931309153744851875</id><published>2007-07-08T19:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-08T20:00:36.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I keep making drafts starting off topics, some in regards to the current situation in Pakistan, which we are continiuously watching at my house (thanks Geo news) and others in regards to the censorship of the media itself which happened only a few weeks ago in Pakistan. Although these topics have brought Pakistanis to the forefront of the "fanatical extremist islamofascists" list, I wanted to write about another topic that hit home personally. Gorgeous is gone, and if you've ever had a cat you might know what it feels like. That innocent, pure, unconditional love could be the topic of an entry, but really I'd have to be able to verbalize that, which maybe I will later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard something today that struck me. What if you knew with certainty of sight (of hellfire and jannah)? You saw the blaze and the gardens? What would you do differently in your life?&lt;br /&gt;Yet if we wait to see them before we change anything, then it will certainly be too late.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-931309153744851875?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/931309153744851875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=931309153744851875&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/931309153744851875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/931309153744851875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/07/i-keep-making-drafts-starting-off.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-5859823567544769834</id><published>2007-06-28T21:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.249-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My big little girl heart&lt;br /&gt;is  full of&lt;br /&gt;happy wide world hopes&lt;br /&gt;5.23&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-5859823567544769834?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/5859823567544769834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=5859823567544769834&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/5859823567544769834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/5859823567544769834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-big-little-girl-heart-is-full-of.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-2785862180101920345</id><published>2007-06-22T15:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-22T15:23:32.154-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My students evaluated my teaching on the following 6 statements. 1= Never, 2 = Rarely, 3= Most of the time, 4= Always. The number is the average of 119 responses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She knew what she was talking about and the information she gave was accurate. 3.307&lt;br /&gt;She was always friendly. 3.384&lt;br /&gt;She was always professional. 3.410&lt;br /&gt;She was approachable and available to answer any questions i had. 3.119&lt;br /&gt;She was fair when grading my papers. 3.068&lt;br /&gt;I learned something while she was teaching. 3.128&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are some of their comments from the evaluations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table str="" style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 432pt;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="576"&gt;&lt;col style="width: 48pt;" span="9" width="64"&gt;  &lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="7" style="height: 12.75pt; width: 336pt;" height="17" width="448"&gt;She was always professional and always knew what she was talking   about&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td style="width: 48pt;" width="64"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td style="width: 48pt;" width="64"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="7" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;Ms. Z   let us be creative and I really enjoyed having her in our class.&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="3" style="height: 12.75pt;" str="She was a great teacher. " height="17"&gt;She was a great teacher.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="9" style="height: 12.75pt;" str="I enjoyed having Ms. Zehra as a student teacher and I think she will be a wonderful teacher. " height="17"&gt;I   enjoyed having Ms. Z as a student teacher and I think she will be a   wonderful teacher.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="2" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;Good person&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="2" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;She was   hard&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="3" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;too many   major grades&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;pass her&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="5" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;Ms. Z   was really good. I enjoyed having her!&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="3" style="height: 12.75pt;" str="Ms. Zehra was awesome. " height="17"&gt;Ms. Z was awesome.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="5" style="height: 12.75pt;" str="I really liked having Ms. Zehra as our student teacher. " height="17"&gt;I really   liked having Ms. Z as our student teacher.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="2" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;She is the   pwnage&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="5" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;She was   polite and treated us with Respect!&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="4" style="height: 12.75pt;" str="She made my grade drop almost 20 pts. " height="17"&gt;She made my grade drop almost   20 pts.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="5" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;She talked   to fast and never explained herself&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="3" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;I didn't   understand her&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="2" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;I did not   like her&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td style="height: 12.75pt;" num="" align="right" height="17"&gt;1001&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="8" style="height: 12.75pt;" str="Ms. Zehra is going to be a great teacher, I wish there were more teachers like her. " height="17"&gt;Ms.   Z is going to be a great teacher, I wish there were more teachers like   her.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="3" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;Thanks for   teaching me!&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="2" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;muy bueno&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="4" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;I loved Ms.   Z! She was so awesome&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="5" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;She is   really sweet and a very good teacher!!&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="5" style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;Ms. Z will be a good teacher. Just Chillax!&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr style="height: 12.75pt;" height="17"&gt;   &lt;td colspan="4" style="height: 12.75pt;" str="My average went down about 15 pts. " height="17"&gt;My average went down about 15   pts.&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;   &lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;  &lt;/tr&gt; &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-2785862180101920345?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/2785862180101920345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=2785862180101920345&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2785862180101920345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2785862180101920345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/06/my-students-evaluated-my-teaching-on.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-5503581568049773343</id><published>2007-06-12T17:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.249-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'd like to say forgive me&lt;br /&gt;for not thinking this through&lt;br /&gt;some things won't wait&lt;br /&gt;for the right words to string together&lt;br /&gt;and the fabric I'm weaving doesn't&lt;br /&gt;look the right color, but I know that its&lt;br /&gt;softer than anything you've ever felt&lt;br /&gt;before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here they come,&lt;br /&gt;the words that have been building themselves up&lt;br /&gt;creating the right little layers of sensation...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-5503581568049773343?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/5503581568049773343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=5503581568049773343&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/5503581568049773343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/5503581568049773343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/06/id-like-to-say-forgive-me-for-not.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-9092315984836878392</id><published>2007-06-12T11:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-12T11:39:27.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.candydirect.com/html/cleanimages/candybars/skor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.candydirect.com/html/cleanimages/candybars/skor.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Hersheys,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SKOR is not good. It took over a year to sell a standard box of Skor at our store. The last bar was eaten by my own family. Each of us did not like it. SKOR was not a good idea.&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for contacting The Hershey Company. Your comments about SKOR toffee candy bar are important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry that you were disappointed in this product.  We realize that consumer taste preferences vary and that not everyone will like every product. I will share your comments with our Marketing Department.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our goal is to develop products, promotions, and advertising with widespread consumer appeal. It is disappointing to learn that your expectations were not met. Comments such as yours are valuable and provide input into future planning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your interest in our company is appreciated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This email address is restricted for outgoing messages only. For that reason, please do not respond to this email as the inbox is not monitored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maria Miller&lt;br /&gt;Consumer Representative&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;Some better feedback would include: We felt that there was too much toffee and not enough chocolate. We do enjoy many of your other products .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-9092315984836878392?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/9092315984836878392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=9092315984836878392&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/9092315984836878392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/9092315984836878392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/06/dear-hersheys-skor-is-not-good.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-3999431079261137610</id><published>2007-06-04T21:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.250-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Una palabra no dice nada&lt;br /&gt;                      y al mismo tiempo lo esconde todo&lt;br /&gt;                      igual que el viento que esconde el agua&lt;br /&gt;                      como las flores que esconde el lodo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                      Una mirada no dice nada&lt;br /&gt;                      y al mismo tiempo lo dice todo&lt;br /&gt;                      como la lluvia sobre tu cara&lt;br /&gt;                      o el viejo mapa de algún tesoro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                      Una verdad no dice nada&lt;br /&gt;                      y al mismo tiempo lo esconde todo&lt;br /&gt;                      como una hoguera que no se apaga&lt;br /&gt;                      como una piedra que nace polvo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                      Si un día me faltas no seré nada&lt;br /&gt;                      y al mismo tiempo lo seré todo&lt;br /&gt;                      porque en tus ojos están mis alas&lt;br /&gt;                      y está la orilla donde me ahogo,&lt;br /&gt;                      porque en tus ojos están mis alas&lt;br /&gt;                      y está la orilla donde me ahogo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-3999431079261137610?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/3999431079261137610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=3999431079261137610&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3999431079261137610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3999431079261137610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/06/una-palabra-no-dice-nada-y-al-mismo.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-408736006964049398</id><published>2007-06-02T21:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-02T21:52:19.048-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Nice night for the Cleveland Cavaliers. =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-408736006964049398?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/408736006964049398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=408736006964049398&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/408736006964049398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/408736006964049398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/06/nice-night-for-cleveland-cavaliers.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-4993398840250005961</id><published>2007-05-14T12:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T12:54:22.137-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This morning after I brushed my teeth, I dipped my brush in baking soda and gave em a good scrub. Yay for baking soda and shiny teeth. =D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-4993398840250005961?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/4993398840250005961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=4993398840250005961&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4993398840250005961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4993398840250005961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/05/this-morning-after-i-brushed-my-teeth-i.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-6194295075606353396</id><published>2007-05-06T23:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-06T23:44:35.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>He's got my queen in a head lock&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-6194295075606353396?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/6194295075606353396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=6194295075606353396&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/6194295075606353396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/6194295075606353396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/05/hes-got-my-queen-in-head-lock.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-8659088039912892666</id><published>2007-05-01T22:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T21:01:38.624-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I like the new blue layout. I actually didn't care for the other ones...they were just there to serve a purpose. I think the blue is soothing, and I like coming to the blog. It's also convenient to have links on my sidebar. Hm, i think it's a new place to call "blome"? =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got tagged by ummlayth.muslimpad.com , thanks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here are the rules:&lt;br /&gt;People who get tagged must write in a blog of their own ten weird things or habits or little known facts as well as state this rule clearly. At the end you must choose six people to be tagged and list their names. No tagbacks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only, I haven't thought of the six people yet, so I'll leave that out for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I took Business Calculus for fun.&lt;br /&gt;9. I can't sleep with my socks on.&lt;br /&gt;8. I've had crushes on fictional/historical characters, including: Batman (cartoon), Thoreau, Mr. Darcy, Holden Caulfield and Donatello (the purple bandana'ed ninja turtle).&lt;br /&gt;7. I type out replies to threads on forums and close them out without posting often.&lt;br /&gt;6. I listen to my cassette player in my car more than  my CD player.&lt;br /&gt;5. I always sneeze 3-15 times in a row...always.&lt;br /&gt;4. When talking or listening to people I have a lot of facial expression, and they can tell what I'm thinking. No poker face here.&lt;br /&gt;3. I remember phone numbers from the 2nd grade. That might be my superpower.&lt;br /&gt;2. I like grits.&lt;br /&gt;1. I may be the queen of awkward conversations. Not just conversations that end up being awkward, not the kind with long pauses, stumbling over your words, misunderstandings, or slips of the tongue; but truly awkward combinations of people, perspectives, backgrounds, situations and issues or subjects being talked about. I'd give examples, but that would be a whole new post. By queen, I also do not mean I am good at them...I've just had too many.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-8659088039912892666?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/8659088039912892666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=8659088039912892666&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8659088039912892666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8659088039912892666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-like-new-blue-layout.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-8503729093425020030</id><published>2007-04-28T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-28T14:51:23.097-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjPAs4jrOTI/AAAAAAAAADU/rh0AyRhkxmI/s1600-h/IM000051.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjPAs4jrOTI/AAAAAAAAADU/rh0AyRhkxmI/s320/IM000051.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058598683795994930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;More pictures of the ATL aquarium by Editor's request. They have a place where you can touch the stingrays, and sharks...that was really cool. They also have a HUGE wall of glass where its almost like a theatre and you can watch the fish. They have glass ceilings in some areas, so the fish are swimming around you and above you. Those are the Spider Crabs at the bottom...they were huge. SubhanAllah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjPAeojrOSI/AAAAAAAAADM/DV4W9dvobUk/s1600-h/IM000099.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjPAeojrOSI/AAAAAAAAADM/DV4W9dvobUk/s320/IM000099.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058598438982859042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjPARojrORI/AAAAAAAAADE/laXKcAEmleo/s1600-h/IM000078.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjPARojrORI/AAAAAAAAADE/laXKcAEmleo/s320/IM000078.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058598215644559634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjPAB4jrOQI/AAAAAAAAAC8/VfsruZBGCHQ/s1600-h/IM000025.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjPAB4jrOQI/AAAAAAAAAC8/VfsruZBGCHQ/s320/IM000025.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058597945061619970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjO_8ojrOPI/AAAAAAAAAC0/uKGzfa37Tws/s1600-h/IM000021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjO_8ojrOPI/AAAAAAAAAC0/uKGzfa37Tws/s320/IM000021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058597854867306738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjO_3ojrOOI/AAAAAAAAACs/a2v6D-6l7Gw/s1600-h/IM000022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjO_3ojrOOI/AAAAAAAAACs/a2v6D-6l7Gw/s320/IM000022.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058597768967960802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-8503729093425020030?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/8503729093425020030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=8503729093425020030&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8503729093425020030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8503729093425020030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/04/more-pictures-of-atl-aquarium-by.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RjPAs4jrOTI/AAAAAAAAADU/rh0AyRhkxmI/s72-c/IM000051.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-3290227839807896698</id><published>2007-04-22T18:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T18:36:52.707-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Spider Crabs, jellyfish, The Wall, Penguins, and if you look closely...there's a seahorse too. So if you're ever in Atlanta, go to the world's largest aquarium...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwLsOsnSOI/AAAAAAAAACc/Ar-1YVID7q8/s1600-h/IM000087.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwLsOsnSOI/AAAAAAAAACc/Ar-1YVID7q8/s320/IM000087.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056429336117594338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwL1esnSPI/AAAAAAAAACk/acwLfqmooNU/s1600-h/IM000121.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwL1esnSPI/AAAAAAAAACk/acwLfqmooNU/s320/IM000121.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056429495031384306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwLm-snSNI/AAAAAAAAACU/QvvwBR8bQO0/s1600-h/IM000082.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwLm-snSNI/AAAAAAAAACU/QvvwBR8bQO0/s320/IM000082.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056429245923281106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwLf-snSMI/AAAAAAAAACM/hnfqIbNpoHk/s1600-h/IM000059.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwLf-snSMI/AAAAAAAAACM/hnfqIbNpoHk/s320/IM000059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056429125664196802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwLXesnSLI/AAAAAAAAACE/DJVpPhV8vI4/s1600-h/IM000044.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwLXesnSLI/AAAAAAAAACE/DJVpPhV8vI4/s320/IM000044.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056428979635308722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwLROsnSKI/AAAAAAAAAB8/rj4z9fQ50cM/s1600-h/IM000035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwLROsnSKI/AAAAAAAAAB8/rj4z9fQ50cM/s320/IM000035.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056428872261126306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-3290227839807896698?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/3290227839807896698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=3290227839807896698&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3290227839807896698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3290227839807896698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/04/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RiwLsOsnSOI/AAAAAAAAACc/Ar-1YVID7q8/s72-c/IM000087.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-9114020197462767501</id><published>2007-04-05T00:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-04-06T23:04:37.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;Innocence is dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been fading in my mind slowly, but I'm jolted awake from the uneasy sleep. Watching the bright red numbers change from 2:13 to 3:38 to 4:19 and eventually tossing my sheets aside. Even in wakefulness nothing seems real, its all blurred and surreal. The ebb of reality pulling away and snatching a part of me: like an elastic gumby doll being manipulated, then having its limbs hacked off. A freak circus mirror with a distorted reflection of self and my world: I feel betrayed. The ebb turns to a wave of nausea sweeping over me because frankly, I can't stomach the truth that is destroying the world I knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reality of what I always knew to be purity, goodness, and innocence is as covered in muck and filth as the bottom feeders that survive on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet a slim glimmer of hope remains and if only&lt;br /&gt;our prayers are heard&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;we hold on tight enough&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;we rise up high enough&lt;br /&gt;can we shake the shit off&lt;br /&gt;wash ourselves clean&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;repent and mourn the death of our innocence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-9114020197462767501?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/9114020197462767501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/9114020197462767501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/04/innocence-is-dead.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-6625851636234458548</id><published>2007-03-29T21:31:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-29T21:31:31.561-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>innocence is dead&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-6625851636234458548?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/6625851636234458548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=6625851636234458548&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/6625851636234458548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/6625851636234458548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/03/innocence-is-dead.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-933314814515168857</id><published>2007-03-22T18:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-23T04:51:01.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a strange dream last night:&lt;br /&gt;he is 5 years old and the soft peach fuzz of his round face brushes my cheek as he lays his head on my shoulder.wrapping my arms around the small person standing in front of me emphasizes how  our lives encompass each others.  despite this, the reflective quality of his expression gives me the startling realization that he is my son. my arms wrap around his back and my hands reach back again to my shoulders. his small body presses against me and i can feel his heart beating through mine. the beating of his heart is calm, his eyes are a deep brown, bright and have the carelessness which only the naivety and innocence of childhood could possess.&lt;br /&gt;I woke up happy and somewhat confused.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-933314814515168857?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/933314814515168857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=933314814515168857&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/933314814515168857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/933314814515168857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/03/i-had-strange-dream-last-night-wrapping.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-1467953734104209225</id><published>2007-03-20T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T17:58:26.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RgCDGgNsLrI/AAAAAAAAABg/q8fIMZTusw8/s1600-h/IM000948.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RgCDGgNsLrI/AAAAAAAAABg/q8fIMZTusw8/s320/IM000948.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044175730404765362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mmm...fruit&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-1467953734104209225?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/1467953734104209225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=1467953734104209225&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/1467953734104209225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/1467953734104209225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/03/mmm.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RgCDGgNsLrI/AAAAAAAAABg/q8fIMZTusw8/s72-c/IM000948.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-2115646267053964775</id><published>2007-03-18T15:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.250-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;table style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);" bg="" align="center" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;H&lt;span style=""&gt;OPE&lt;/span&gt; is the thing with feathers&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;That perches in the soul,&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="2"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;And sings the tune without the words,&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="3"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;And never stops at all,&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="4"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;And sweetest in the gale is heard;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="5"&gt;&lt;i&gt;        5&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;And sore must be the storm&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="6"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;That could abash the little bird&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="7"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;That kept so many warm.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="8"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;I ’ve heard it in the chillest land,&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="9"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;And on the strangest sea;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="10"&gt;&lt;i&gt;        10&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Yet, never, in extremity,&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="right" valign="top"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;a name="11"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;  &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;It asked a crumb of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;ED&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-2115646267053964775?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/2115646267053964775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=2115646267053964775&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2115646267053964775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2115646267053964775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/03/h-ope-is-thing-with-feathers-that.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-5968437611384664934</id><published>2007-03-07T19:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-10T08:58:10.804-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've never actually lived amongst Muslims for a long period of time. So over different continents and cultures, I've been a bit of an oddity or a novelty. I think that novelty has become part of my personality. After an introduction, or even before, people are interested in my background, and inevitably my religion. I've got these conversations thoroughly run through, and I know how to carry myself now through them. I realize it has a stagnant effect as well, and it requires great leaps and bounds for me to actually do things to better myself as a muslimah. But now I'm faced with the prospect of living amongst many other people like me. So, I'm a little insecure... once the novelty is gone...and I don't have to answer the normal hundred fifty or so questions I get, what will I have to say? if anything, will it be meaningful?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might have to discover for myself what's really underneath the hijab...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-5968437611384664934?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/5968437611384664934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=5968437611384664934&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/5968437611384664934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/5968437611384664934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/03/ive-never-actually-lived-amongst.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-4583156099079472568</id><published>2007-03-06T16:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-06T16:57:18.883-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>After today, I really feel like I have failed at life. However, instead of pointing out how I have failed, I will in a concise bulleted list tell about the magnanimous lessons I have learned and how they will impact my life forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;always carry poi as mandated by your state and other surrounding states, especially when you are traveling...especially when you are traveling.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;never reach for baklava while driving&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;always keep your brakes pressed down hard at a red light&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;always stop at least 2-3 feet away from the car in front of you, as to avoid any domino effect bumping&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;always note the name, license plate, race, age, gender, car make/model/color/condition of all people involved should they drive away and leave you to take the blame.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;keep fresh brownies handy especially when traveling so as to comfort you in any unforeseen situation.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;carefully note your court date&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;carefully in big letters write your court date in a planner&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;consult your planner and said court date before making other plans&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;when attempting to reschedule, do not leave the job to a secretary...call, call, call, call until the job is done.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;when you cannot clone yourself or make it to the appointment, do not pass go, do not collect $200, go straight to jail and lose a turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-4583156099079472568?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/4583156099079472568/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=4583156099079472568&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4583156099079472568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4583156099079472568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/03/after-today-i-really-feel-like-i-have.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-9029229888337101341</id><published>2007-02-21T19:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T19:32:30.953-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Sometimes the pain doesn't fade, but it can change over time and take the form of remembering all the happy memories, and the love. It wouldn't be right to not miss them and not grieve. When pillars collapse, those who depended on them will undoubtedly stumble.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-9029229888337101341?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/9029229888337101341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=9029229888337101341&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/9029229888337101341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/9029229888337101341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/02/sometimes-pain-doesnt-fade-but-it-can.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-418851999980343074</id><published>2007-02-01T14:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-01T14:51:18.274-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Alhamdulillah!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RcJtxRaJMjI/AAAAAAAAABU/5zdbdlR_6eQ/s1600-h/fine2.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RcJtxRaJMjI/AAAAAAAAABU/5zdbdlR_6eQ/s320/fine2.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026700827352969778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-418851999980343074?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/418851999980343074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=418851999980343074&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/418851999980343074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/418851999980343074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/02/alhamdulillah.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RcJtxRaJMjI/AAAAAAAAABU/5zdbdlR_6eQ/s72-c/fine2.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-3963816688912232101</id><published>2007-01-28T11:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-28T11:37:03.498-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>While checking my email this morning:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/Rbz7MrCW4iI/AAAAAAAAABI/iuzH6Va7tb4/s1600-h/fine.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/Rbz7MrCW4iI/AAAAAAAAABI/iuzH6Va7tb4/s320/fine.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5025167479368245794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-3963816688912232101?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/3963816688912232101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=3963816688912232101&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3963816688912232101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3963816688912232101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/01/while-checking-my-email-this-morning.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/Rbz7MrCW4iI/AAAAAAAAABI/iuzH6Va7tb4/s72-c/fine.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-8366944403243478541</id><published>2007-01-23T16:11:00.003-08:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.250-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Lying, thinking&lt;br /&gt;Last night&lt;br /&gt;How to find my soul a home&lt;br /&gt;Where water is not thirsty&lt;br /&gt;And bread loaf is not stone&lt;br /&gt;I came up with one thing&lt;br /&gt;And I don't believe I'm wrong&lt;br /&gt;That nobody,&lt;br /&gt;But nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alone, all alone&lt;br /&gt;Nobody, but nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some millionaires&lt;br /&gt;With money they can't use&lt;br /&gt;Their wives run round like banshees&lt;br /&gt;Their children sing the blues&lt;br /&gt;They've got expensive doctors&lt;br /&gt;To cure their hearts of stone.&lt;br /&gt;But nobody&lt;br /&gt;No, nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alone, all alone&lt;br /&gt;Nobody, but nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you listen closely&lt;br /&gt;I'll tell you what I know&lt;br /&gt;Storm clouds are gathering&lt;br /&gt;The wind is gonna blow&lt;br /&gt;The race of man is suffering&lt;br /&gt;And I can hear the moan,&lt;br /&gt;'Cause nobody,&lt;br /&gt;But nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alone, all alone&lt;br /&gt;Nobody, but nobody&lt;br /&gt;Can make it out here alone.      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Maya...thanks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-8366944403243478541?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/8366944403243478541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=8366944403243478541&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8366944403243478541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8366944403243478541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/01/lying-thinking-last-night-how-to-find_23.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-4326892432791698149</id><published>2007-01-14T14:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.250-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's not a silly little moment&lt;br /&gt;It's not the storm before the calm&lt;br /&gt;This is the deep and dyin breath of&lt;br /&gt;this love we've been workin on&lt;br /&gt;Can't seem to hold you like I want to&lt;br /&gt;so I can feel you in my arms&lt;br /&gt;Nobody's gonna come and save you&lt;br /&gt;we pulled too many false alarms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're goin down&lt;br /&gt;and you can see it too&lt;br /&gt;We're goin down&lt;br /&gt;and you know that we're doomed&lt;br /&gt;my dear&lt;br /&gt;we're slow dancing in a burnin room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was the one you always dreamed of&lt;br /&gt;you were the one i tried to draw&lt;br /&gt;how dare you say it's nothin to me&lt;br /&gt;baby, you're the only light I ever saw&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I make the most of all the sadness&lt;br /&gt;you'll be a bitch because you can&lt;br /&gt;you try to hit me just hurt me&lt;br /&gt;so you leave me feelin dirty cuz you can't understand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're goin down&lt;br /&gt;and you can see it too&lt;br /&gt;We're goin down&lt;br /&gt;and you know that we're doomed&lt;br /&gt;my dear&lt;br /&gt;we're slow dancing in a burnin room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go cry about it why don't you&lt;br /&gt;Go cry about it why don't you&lt;br /&gt;Go cry about it why don't you&lt;br /&gt;my dear, we're slow dancin in a burnin room&lt;br /&gt;burnin room, burnin room&lt;br /&gt;don't you think we oughta know by now&lt;br /&gt;don't you think we shoulda learned somehow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-4326892432791698149?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/4326892432791698149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=4326892432791698149&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4326892432791698149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4326892432791698149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/01/its-not-silly-little-moment-its-not.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-5705652850127303932</id><published>2007-01-12T17:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.251-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>who do you love? me or the thought of me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-5705652850127303932?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/5705652850127303932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=5705652850127303932&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/5705652850127303932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/5705652850127303932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/01/who-do-you-love-me-or-thought-of-me.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-3210710496313672576</id><published>2007-01-12T13:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-12T13:03:56.822-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It really doesn't feel like winter time today. Its sunny, and slightly breezy and beautiful in general. =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-3210710496313672576?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/3210710496313672576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=3210710496313672576&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3210710496313672576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/3210710496313672576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/01/it-really-doesnt-feel-like-winter-time.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-8021424541641496019</id><published>2007-01-10T12:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-10T12:57:09.199-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I found this written on February 16th, time 7:58. I think the year is 2004 because the notebook is for classes I took in 2004.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" I can't pretend to understand the grief of losing a child. Though I can relate to the heart grieving at the loss of a potential life (of the merging of two tattered souls in hopes of some completion). A potentially beautiful life, which on its own was simply a series of monotonous tasks- eating, sleeping, breathing. The potential to turn that into a beautiful union in which its factors extend beyond themselves into each other and you're a part of something bigger than yourself your life has more meaning, more worth. To lose this potential for reasons unknown makes the heart grieve and the eyes bleed tears. You dream and think about it everyday and hope that as cheesy as it may be your dreams come true. You do what you can , what you know how, whatever you think might help to make it a reality and you know what they say about hopes, dreams and expectations in general- if you have very low (hopes, dreams) and expectations, they're harder to let down. But sometimes when you find a blessing, when a blessing so wonderful is bestowed upon you that you wonder how you could possibly be worthy of it( so wonderful that you use the word "bestowed"- because its such a miraculous gift of God's generosity)- you let your guard down. You build up hopes and dreams of a utopia which is just an arm's distance away. And for some reason no matter how hard you reach, instead of getting closer you see it slipping further away. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today: And eventually, you stop reaching. you tell yourself that it was a dream built on illusions and the self perception which warped your own thoughts, feelings, dreams and expectations. you still can't completely convince yourself to give up, but you continue to tell yourself Alhamdulillah ala kulli hal, and whatver happened and whatever will happen is ultimately for the best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-8021424541641496019?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/8021424541641496019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=8021424541641496019&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8021424541641496019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8021424541641496019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-found-this-written-on-february-16th.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-4003515881092582375</id><published>2007-01-09T19:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-09T20:11:07.030-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The last post on Hajj was a simplistic emotional outburst attempting to be simmered down, and it didn't do any justice to the awesomeness of Hajj. I could go into &lt;a href="http://hajj.al-islam.com/default.asp?lang=eng"&gt;the obligations of hajj, the commandments of hajj, the exceptions, the rewards&lt;/a&gt;, but really I want to talk about this unexplainable deep almost painful desire to go and realizing not only am I unprepared...I have yet to be invited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The official Hajj season is over, and muslims from all over the world are returning to their homes bringing back tasbihs, hijabs, and little pieces of Mecca and Medinah back with them. They're also bringing back a piece of the ummah with them. Not only because they have been around others of the ummah and gained from them, but because after Hajj...they've seen the ummah...they've been a part of that magnificent inertia like movement of millions of worshippers circling around the Ka'bah; they have bowed and prostrated as a whole to The One, the only One. They bring back the part of the ummah that is themselves, for they have finally realized what they are a part of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hajj changes people. People who didn't really care much for their cultural, "amee-makes-me-pray," "yea its this thing we do," religion, into people who go home and care...they go home and its no longer this thing they brush aside, and hope no one asks them about it. It becomes a part of their identity...they've realized they are not alone. Then they don't worry about answering questions, sideways glances about their hijab/beard. I think Hajj makes people better. It works on your soul. My soul needs to be worked on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize I am romanticizing alot about Hajj, and what I'm thinking might be wrong(it's probably not). I haven't been yet...but inshaAllah I will go soon. I do see the people around me who have gone and how they have changed. It gives me hope, that I can change...do not disenchant me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-4003515881092582375?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/4003515881092582375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=4003515881092582375&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4003515881092582375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4003515881092582375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/01/last-post-on-hajj-was-simplistic.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-8518850379979586941</id><published>2007-01-06T17:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-06T17:46:32.053-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RaBQ6yucaxI/AAAAAAAAAA8/fzet5FFRZAs/s1600-h/hajj.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RaBQ6yucaxI/AAAAAAAAAA8/fzet5FFRZAs/s320/hajj.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5017098955869940498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hajj changes people's lives. Hajj makes people better people. Hajj fills you with eman and lets your cup overflow.  Even hearing about other people making hajj, and seeing them change for the better, and when their cup overflows with eman, it flows over to all the people around them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-8518850379979586941?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/8518850379979586941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=8518850379979586941&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8518850379979586941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/8518850379979586941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/01/hajj-changes-peoples-lives.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RaBQ6yucaxI/AAAAAAAAAA8/fzet5FFRZAs/s72-c/hajj.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-1305756292981328038</id><published>2007-01-04T18:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-04T20:59:36.542-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>For the past few years I've lived by a personal motto in dealing with other people, and in situations where there is a possibitliy of a bad outcome : expect nothing of people, and have very low expectations. If something good happens you will be happy, if it doesn't then you never got your hopes up to begin with, so there is no let down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its worked out okay as well. I haven't been let down very much because of my lack of expectations. However, I've been rethinking this idea...what is the point of the concept of "hope" in my life if I am not hoping and expecting the best? Why shouldn't I become emotionally excited and hope with everything and every kernel of faith...shouldn't we make du'a to Allah with yaqeen that He will respond? This would make not only the moment in which the thing is granted joyous, but rather the entire process would be full of joy and hope and good expectations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going to be completely unrealistic...I realize people will still fall short, that is our nature. So when something doesn't live up to all the high expectations, one could suffer the blow with dignity, and grace and gratitude. Learn lessons from it and all that jazz...Isn't that the truer mark of character and of faith, that when things don't work out how we expected them to that we are still firm, thankful, humble, and recognizing it was all in the hands of Allah to begin with...how can we do that if we never had any expectations to begin with?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't there a principle about having high expectations of others, and when they sense it, or outright know it, they will want to live up to those? And why is it that when someone lets us down that we try to justify it away with...meh, he's just a person, what did you expect? Humanity, civility, decency, fear of Allah... are we making the absense of these qualities the social norm? If you are unloyal, lie, cheat, backbite, gossip, letting people down and hurting them willy nilly, that that is just your nature...? I guess there is more to this than what Im writing here...the extremely high expectations have a negative effect, and that in Islam of course we're told about social morals, but how society has applied them or rather ignored them is what is under scrutiny here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last question...&lt;br /&gt;Is it as bad to be dissapointing others (through social immorality) as it is to not have any expectations of others at all (because we create a social norm where it is acceptable to be a jerk)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still thinking about all this, and my personal motto is under serious reconsideration... for now though, I am going to hope with all hope, and pray with all my faith, for the things which are good in my life and I will expect that Allah will grant me the best, and no less.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-1305756292981328038?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/1305756292981328038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=1305756292981328038&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/1305756292981328038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/1305756292981328038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2007/01/for-past-few-years-ive-lived-by.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-4500375930316395377</id><published>2006-12-14T12:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-20T12:09:03.784-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RYG1HmfhZnI/AAAAAAAAAAY/vFzf5AzEzK8/s1600-h/IM000844.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RYG1HmfhZnI/AAAAAAAAAAY/vFzf5AzEzK8/s320/IM000844.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008483402809173618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Project A has turned into a combination of yarns, and I cannot leave it uncompleted. The search for a person willing to wear this continues...and I think will continue for a very long time. =P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RYG1fmfhZpI/AAAAAAAAAAo/GztrRBz9doc/s1600-h/IM000838.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RYG1fmfhZpI/AAAAAAAAAAo/GztrRBz9doc/s320/IM000838.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5008483815126034066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Project B which although is one type of yarn, there's a good bit of experimentation with the stitching.My mother won't let me quit making a pattern, its much easier to just knit without thinking. heh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-4500375930316395377?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/4500375930316395377/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=4500375930316395377&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4500375930316395377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/4500375930316395377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/12/project-has-turned-into-combination-of.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RYG1HmfhZnI/AAAAAAAAAAY/vFzf5AzEzK8/s72-c/IM000844.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-2238227111001864436</id><published>2006-12-09T14:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-09T21:06:35.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RXs8Ezer_SI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KB0WhXRT6gE/s1600-h/hidden+classic.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RXs8Ezer_SI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KB0WhXRT6gE/s320/hidden+classic.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5006661463988501794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was studying with my brother outside the computer hall on campus a couple weeks ago. We were sitting on the patio area outside because the breeze was nice. It was the first time I stayed so late on campus and it was nice to hang out with my brother. He pretended to study and I pretended to read. We talked alot about the end of his career as a "student," and what he would do in the "real world".  Talking with him made me a bit scared for myself, although my major has more of a direct job market. InshaAllah it'll all turn out fine. Then he went inside to check his email and get something to eat. While he was gone, a man approached me, and said salaams...acted like he was about to walk away, then asked me where i was from and if i spoke arabic. Briefly looking up from my books, I responded, noticing his well-ironed striped oh-too-colorful shirt. Now knowing that my appearance belied my arabic fluency, he pretended to walk away again. I continued to look too busy to be bothered, the entire time thinking, "when is he leaving? why won't he leavvvee?!? " He approached me again, and told me where he was from.  The whole time I'm wondering where my brother was and why he was taking so long. I kept looking at my computer and books like i was incredibly busy. Alhamdulillah, it finally worked and he walked away. He would never have talked to me if my brother was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I'm usually interested in knowing about people who might be muslim and even those who aren't (im such a crazy liberal) . It is of genuine interest to me, however, when it feels like you're hitting on me...I get nervous and antsy and can't wait for you to leave. I usually just approach girls. I think that should be the general rule...don't talk to me unless you're a girl. But apparently people don't know about this rule. I would think at least Muslim guys should know this rule. What really irks me is the 21 questions. I really just want to tell people, it's none of your business. Muslim male or not...you don't need to know me, or where i'm from, where I go to school, what's my major, who are my parents, where did i grow up, how my english is so good, am I married, how old i am, what I'm wearing underneath, how long is my hair, what color is my hair. I just don't think it is any of your business. You don't start a conversation that way. It's rude. Ask me about my thing on my head (hijab), why I wear black, am i a mozlem, why i am not christian, where is OBL, or if I've accepted Jesus (as)...questions like that I'm cool with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't like personal questions. Especially when you're some random person in Wal-mart. Break the ice, ask me where the garbanzo beans are, show me the cute baby in your buggy. But despite my desire to be somewhat comfortable, people still ask very personal questions before they ever say hello. Being "The Ambassador of Islam" that I am, I always politely oblige them with simple truthful, skip-the-details answers. *sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you know a way to evade personal questions in a polite manner that won't turn people off from you or islam, please do share.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-2238227111001864436?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/2238227111001864436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=2238227111001864436&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2238227111001864436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2238227111001864436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-was-studying-with-my-brother-outside.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ZHP1LaEaQiU/RXs8Ezer_SI/AAAAAAAAAAM/KB0WhXRT6gE/s72-c/hidden+classic.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-2149034235763297921</id><published>2006-12-05T20:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-05T20:13:17.867-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>lately, im distracted...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-2149034235763297921?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/2149034235763297921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=2149034235763297921&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2149034235763297921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/2149034235763297921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/12/lately-im-distracted.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-116485064978830455</id><published>2006-11-29T17:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T17:37:29.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ALhamdulillah, I am a witty person. I don't make non stop hilarious knock you off your chair jokes, but every so often I say something which is considerably funny. Then I ruin it. I don't know why...I know that saying any more will ruin it, yet I consistantly do it. Meh...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-116485064978830455?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/116485064978830455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=116485064978830455&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116485064978830455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116485064978830455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/11/alhamdulillah-i-am-witty-person.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-116460413308906017</id><published>2006-11-26T21:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-26T21:08:53.106-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I need some yarn, but its this very specific multicolor yarn by Red heart, because I already started a scarf with it, but it's only half as long as it needs to be. The problem is, it's yarn my mom bought a long time ago and it is out of production. I've checked online, in random stores, walmart, etc...no one has it. Sigh... so, I might have to buy some similar looking yarn, but obviously different and complete the scarf. I have started on my blue multicolor scarf as well, but my mom and I are experimenting with the various stitches, so it doesn't look like much right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to post something deep and meaningul, but I'm not up to it, so shallow and meaningless it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-116460413308906017?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/116460413308906017/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=116460413308906017&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116460413308906017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116460413308906017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-need-some-yarn-but-its-this-very.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-116293315499100528</id><published>2006-11-07T12:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T12:59:15.016-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3406/1701/1600/seekingilm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3406/1701/320/seekingilm.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-116293315499100528?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/116293315499100528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=116293315499100528&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116293315499100528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116293315499100528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/11/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-116278768594590878</id><published>2006-11-05T20:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-05T20:34:45.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am always looking for something productive to do over the summer. I've realized now is the best time to look for something. =) So, right now my options are packing and making arrangements for Misr (which will be done anyway, inshaAllah), hanging out with my family, tutoring over the summer, teaching locally over the summer, taking an internship with ISNA, going back to al-azhar in H-town, or counseling at Ole Miss again. I've been to H-town, and done the counseling at Ole Miss...they were both good but I might want to try something new, a new city is always a plus...especially when its paid for =D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-116278768594590878?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/116278768594590878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=116278768594590878&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116278768594590878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116278768594590878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-am-always-looking-for-something.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-116218134791339263</id><published>2006-10-29T20:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-10-29T20:09:07.933-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy(ness is relevant)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Taco Bell after a while and I got some fire sauce packets, I had never seen before. They said: "Ah...we meet again," "Scratch and Sniff: GOTCHA," "Thanks for rescuing me. At night the sporks poke me." =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-116218134791339263?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/116218134791339263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=116218134791339263&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116218134791339263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116218134791339263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/10/happyness-is-relevant-i-went-to-taco.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-116036237138241740</id><published>2006-10-08T19:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-08T19:52:51.393-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My big du'a for the week: Ya Allah, help me to stop sucking so incredibly bad. =(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-116036237138241740?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/116036237138241740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=116036237138241740&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116036237138241740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116036237138241740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/10/my-big-dua-for-week-ya-allah-help-me.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-116026825782856015</id><published>2006-10-07T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-07T17:44:17.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I haven't cried since last december. not for lack of reason to... but because I'm cold...=/ &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;That&lt;/span&gt; is saddest thing, since decemeber.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-116026825782856015?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/116026825782856015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=116026825782856015&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116026825782856015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/116026825782856015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-havent-cried-since-last-december.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115886775250030076</id><published>2006-09-21T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T12:42:32.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If you're bored, and you're my friend... call me on Mondays or Wednesdays at 10-11 am CST or 4-5pm CST. Those are time I commute... I get really bored. Sometimes I want to take a nap, but cruise control doesn't control the steering for me. Anyhow, gimme a buzz between those times and we can catch up. =D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a time zone converter in case you don't live in the Central time zone. &lt;br /&gt;http://www.timezoneconverter.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115886775250030076?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115886775250030076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115886775250030076&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115886775250030076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115886775250030076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/09/if-youre-bored-and-youre-my-friend.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115846589819207381</id><published>2006-09-16T21:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-16T21:04:58.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>HappyS for today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard from someone who was deeply missed and I was worried about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to talk to my mom for the first time since she left. It still seems a bit unreal to me that she is gone, but inshaAllah everything will go smoothly until she gets back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115846589819207381?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115846589819207381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115846589819207381&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115846589819207381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115846589819207381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/09/happys-for-today-i-heard-from-someone.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115802380315108895</id><published>2006-09-11T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:06:23.737-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy for today: I'm alive and breathing, alhamdulillah. In all honesty though, I'm on the brink of breaking down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A religion true to its nature must also be concerned about man's social conditions... Any religion that professes to be concerned with the souls of men and is not concerned with the slums that damn them, the economic conditions that strangle them, and the social conditions that cripple them is a dry-as-dust religion... Such a religion is the kind the Marxists like to see - an opiate of the people. "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115802380315108895?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115802380315108895/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115802380315108895&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115802380315108895'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115802380315108895'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/09/happy-for-today-im-alive-and-breathing.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115716494874140589</id><published>2006-09-01T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:06:23.737-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy for today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt really awesome today, Alhamdulillah. I went to the high school library and got a few books for my adolescent literature class. I turned to ask when they were due back... NO DUE DATE!! that is so incredibly awesome, Alhamdulillah. (i am a geek)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115716494874140589?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115716494874140589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115716494874140589&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115716494874140589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115716494874140589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/09/happy-for-today-i-felt-really-awesome.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115706780876817957</id><published>2006-08-31T16:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:06:23.737-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy for Thursday,&lt;br /&gt;I just finished The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. It was a really good book. I have been reading alot, but I haven't liked anything as much as this lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy for Wednesday,&lt;br /&gt;My really cool friend from Idaho called me. Then she called again just to hear my voicemail. =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy for Tuesday,&lt;br /&gt;I am getting a promotion at work, Alhamdulillah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy for  Monday,&lt;br /&gt;I had a decent parking spot, Alhamdulillah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115706780876817957?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115706780876817957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115706780876817957&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115706780876817957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115706780876817957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/08/happy-for-thursday-i-just-finished.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115673329049779338</id><published>2006-08-27T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:06:23.737-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy for Sunday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me some time  to come up with today's happy. Not because it was a sad day, but rather it was rather slow and unproductive. There wasn't much of an up or down to it. Alhamdulillah. I guess it would be that I got to relax at home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115673329049779338?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115673329049779338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115673329049779338&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115673329049779338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115673329049779338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/08/happy-for-sunday-it-took-me-some-time.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115665672941001837</id><published>2006-08-26T20:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:06:23.737-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy for Saturday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good friend called me today for the first time and made me laugh. This day has been marked. =) Alhamdulillah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115665672941001837?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115665672941001837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115665672941001837&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115665672941001837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115665672941001837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/08/happy-for-saturday-good-friend-called.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115660017427011005</id><published>2006-08-26T06:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:06:23.738-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy for Friday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My scholarship posted. Alhamdulillah. =D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115660017427011005?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115660017427011005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115660017427011005&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115660017427011005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115660017427011005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/08/happy-for-friday-my-scholarship-posted.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115646371341872927</id><published>2006-08-24T16:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:06:23.738-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy for today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad's surgery went fine. =) Alhamdulillah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115646371341872927?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115646371341872927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115646371341872927&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115646371341872927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115646371341872927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/08/happy-for-today-my-dads-surgery-went.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115638355735054545</id><published>2006-08-23T18:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:06:23.738-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Happy for today:&lt;br /&gt;My brother took me out for lunch and we got to hang out for a little while. Alhamdulillah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a long day. The commute gets tiresome and boring. The TESL class is interesting. Definately a diverse group of people. I am looking forward to it. Although... everyone is a graduate student in there with a few years of experience - a little intimidating. I found out I am not eligible for the Mississippi Teacher Corp or Teach for America (the upside to the programs being they pay for a masters if you decide to teach with them for two years), however I'll look into the teacher fellowship program. They require a three year committment...=S I don't want to be here another three years, but inshaAllah I'll keep the option open. I'm polishing up my teaching resume and freely distributing it from atop tall buildings in major cities across north america and especially near islamic schools. Allahu alam if I'll get any serious offers, but I could focus all my efforts on a year of TESL and learning arabic in Egypt. They say you can't learn a language very well as you grow older.  (they=linguists) **sigh** May seems to be coming so quickly...Alhamdulillah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115638355735054545?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115638355735054545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115638355735054545&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115638355735054545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115638355735054545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/08/happy-for-today-my-brother-took-me-out.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115628584325507118</id><published>2006-08-22T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:06:23.738-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Happy'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Happy" for today:&lt;br /&gt;The Dean brought a tray of cookies and brownies for the staff. I helped myself to a brownie. Alhamdulillah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115628584325507118?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115628584325507118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115628584325507118&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115628584325507118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115628584325507118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/08/happy-for-today-dean-brought-tray-of.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115628312774482387</id><published>2006-08-22T14:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T14:45:27.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>tempered, seething, seering, condemned, tranquil, familiar.&lt;br /&gt;emotion,  sadness,  pain, joy, anger, pain, love.&lt;br /&gt;constant, abrupt, sharp, mournfully, cathartic, enveloped&lt;br /&gt;death, disease, corruption, immorality, horror, experience&lt;br /&gt;purity, innocence, lillies, sunrays, chai, a mushaf...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115628312774482387?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115628312774482387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115628312774482387&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115628312774482387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115628312774482387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/08/tempered-seething-seering-condemned.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115551597467447594</id><published>2006-08-13T17:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-13T20:20:29.730-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've inherited my mother's sneezing sensibilities. Never letting a sneeze be alone I always sneeze in multiples- usually in the mornings or because of some dust or something. Recently I developed allergies though. In fits of 20-25 at a time. The mystery is what it is caused by. While making some daal, I sniffed various little jars of spices to find the garam masala, yet... not a single sneeze. I can walk through the detergent aisle at Wal-Mart and break sneezing records. I sneeze while I'm in the house, in the shower,  outside, while driving, and I think I'm just allergic to air and life. Alhamdulillah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think my allergies are okay now...not because they've stopped, but because they help me to thank Allah... nearly hundreds of times a day. Thank Allah that my worries consist of sneezes, not bombs or starvation, death or poverty,  imprisonment or  prosecution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May He grant patience to the Muslimeen all over the world facing trials and hardships which most of us cannot begin to understand the implications of. May the oppressed be liberated, the jailed and imprisoned be freed, may those tested with trials succeed, and may those facing hardships have more patience than they will ever need. May He reward them, expiate their sins, and grant them lofty abodes in Jannatul-Firdaws. Ameen, thooma ameen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115551597467447594?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115551597467447594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115551597467447594&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115551597467447594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115551597467447594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/08/ive-inherited-my-mothers-sneezing.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115472769747076169</id><published>2006-08-04T14:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-04T14:45:18.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose vis-a-vis an introduction, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V." -- V's introduction to Evey&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115472769747076169?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115472769747076169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115472769747076169&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115472769747076169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115472769747076169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/08/voil-in-view-humble-vaudevillian.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-115413570475770688</id><published>2006-07-28T18:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T18:15:04.770-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I confess I am petrified... petrified of losing everything I once had, or had the delusion of "having." I am deluded enough to think that what I am blessed with &amp; is a loan to me - is "mine." To face sickness after health, betrayal and abandonment after love and friendship are struggles, however, the scariest aspect of this is to fail these tests miserably. Will I be pushed to the point of my  absolute threshold and tolerance? will my limited supply of patience end before the trial does?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-115413570475770688?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/115413570475770688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=115413570475770688&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115413570475770688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/115413570475770688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-confess-i-am-petrified.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114965845104612163</id><published>2006-06-06T22:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-06-06T22:34:11.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>There is a girl who is a little attention hungry. well, that's an understatement, but anyway I want her to not behave that way, because its not making her cool and she's giving some people around her a hard time. But at the same time I know how it feels to want attention. in fact, I want plenty of attention , I just have to tell my nafs shushuppa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm drowning in work and school now, but inshaAllah will update at some point. um, sharissa dear... I &lt;3 you and I'll fix that link at some point, inshaAllah. I hope you're doing good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114965845104612163?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114965845104612163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114965845104612163&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114965845104612163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114965845104612163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/06/there-is-girl-who-is-little-attention.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114788001442393899</id><published>2006-05-17T08:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.251-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span serif="" roman="" new="" times="" style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:times;" &gt;&lt;b&gt;Someone&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span serif="" roman="" new="" times="" style="font-family: georgia; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:times;" &gt;someone is dressing up for death today, a change of skirt or tie&lt;br /&gt;eating a final feast of buttered sliced pan, tea&lt;br /&gt;scarcely having noticed the erection that was his last&lt;br /&gt;shaving his face to marble for the icy laying out&lt;br /&gt;spraying with deodorant her coarse armpit grass&lt;br /&gt;someone today is leaving home on business&lt;br /&gt;saluting, terminally, the neighbours who will join in the cortege&lt;br /&gt;someone is paring his nails for the last time, a precious moment&lt;br /&gt;someone's waist will not be marked with elastic in the future&lt;br /&gt;someone is putting out milkbottles for a day that will not come&lt;br /&gt;someone's fresh breath is about to be taken clean away&lt;br /&gt;someone is writing a cheque that will be rejected as 'drawer deceased'&lt;br /&gt;someone is circling posthumous dates on a calendar&lt;br /&gt;someone is listening to an irrelevant weather forecast&lt;br /&gt;someone is making rash promises to friends&lt;br /&gt;someone's coffin is being sanded, laminated, shined&lt;br /&gt;who feels this morning quite as well as ever&lt;br /&gt;someone if asked would find nothing remarkable in today's date&lt;br /&gt;perfume and goodbyes her final will and testament&lt;br /&gt;someone today is seeing the world for the last time&lt;br /&gt;as innocently as he had seen it first&lt;br /&gt;-DO'D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114788001442393899?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114788001442393899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114788001442393899&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114788001442393899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114788001442393899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/05/someone-someone-is-dressing-up-for.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114732225849354195</id><published>2006-05-10T21:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.251-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I don't need another kind of green to know I'm on the right side with you&lt;br /&gt;So go and drift away from me&lt;br /&gt;adopt some new philosophy&lt;br /&gt;that doesn't hold the two of us in mind&lt;br /&gt;move into someone else's place&lt;br /&gt;stare into some other's eyes&lt;br /&gt;and slowly only come to realize&lt;br /&gt;that you didn't need another kind of green to know&lt;br /&gt;that I'm on the right side&lt;br /&gt;that you're on the right side&lt;br /&gt;you don't need to lose it to know that you&lt;br /&gt;had it good.&lt;br /&gt;-JM&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114732225849354195?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114732225849354195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114732225849354195&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114732225849354195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114732225849354195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-dont-need-another-kind-of-green-to.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114715201433611404</id><published>2006-05-08T22:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-05-08T22:20:14.356-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have my cal final at 1030 am tommorrow. Keep me in your du'as. I hope you're not drowning anymore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114715201433611404?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114715201433611404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114715201433611404&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114715201433611404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114715201433611404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/05/i-have-my-cal-final-at-1030-am.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114641816525864731</id><published>2006-04-30T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T10:29:25.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Living in a place where muslims are a minority has its own set of emotional and social baggage. For one, you always represent Islam. While doning hijab, you are identified as a muslim, and all of your actions and words become those of a "muslim woman." People may not conciously, or actively understand that they think this way, but they do. You carry Islam with you wherever you are. Your frustrations, anger, joy, sadness, and laughter are not simply yours, but of every muslim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do I know this? I am often the first (and only) muslim these people will meet. They have no other personal experience with a muslim. When they talk about muslims, I am the person they are thinking about (along with OBL).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes the weight of this, makes me sad. I know I suck. I don't want my suckiness to reflect on Islam or leave them with an impression that all muslims suck like me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114641816525864731?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114641816525864731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114641816525864731&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114641816525864731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114641816525864731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/04/living-in-place-where-muslims-are.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114619585930626994</id><published>2006-04-27T20:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-28T14:10:54.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I feel guilty because I bhangra-ed without you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114619585930626994?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114619585930626994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114619585930626994&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114619585930626994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114619585930626994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-feel-guilty-because-i-bhangra-ed.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114602529752218160</id><published>2006-04-25T21:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.251-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'll never tell you&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;br /&gt;you'll be on top and&lt;br /&gt;you'll have me right&lt;br /&gt;where you want me&lt;br /&gt;I'll reek of you, your power&lt;br /&gt;some exerting others absorbing&lt;br /&gt;the shocks.&lt;br /&gt;I feel the vibrations of your voice&lt;br /&gt;and the echoes of your thoughts&lt;br /&gt;on park benches. I gasp as you&lt;br /&gt;exhale. Breathing in,&lt;br /&gt;what you breathe out.&lt;br /&gt;I'll never tell you&lt;br /&gt;I love you (again).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114602529752218160?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114602529752218160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114602529752218160&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114602529752218160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114602529752218160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/04/ill-never-tell-you-i-love-you-youll-be.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114574539945838843</id><published>2006-04-22T15:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-22T15:36:39.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have never met a man who didn't want to be loved. But I have seldom met a man who didn't fear marriage. Something about the closure seems constricting, not enabling. Marriage seems easier to understand for what it cuts out of our lives than for what it makes possible within our lives. When I was younger this fear immobilized me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did not want to make a mistake. I saw my friends get married for reasons of social acceptability, or sexual fever, or just because they thought it was the logical thing to do. Then I watched, as they and their partners became embittered and petty in their dealings with each other. I looked at older couples and saw, at best, mutual toleration of each other. I imagined a lifetime of loveless nights and bickering days and could not imagine subjecting myself or someone else to such a fate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet, on rare occasions, I would see old couples who somehow seemed to glow in each other's presence. They seemed really in love, not just dependent upon each other and tolerant of each other's foibles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was an astounding sight, and it seemed impossible. How, I asked myself, can they have survived so many years of sameness, so much irritation at the others habits? What keeps love alive in them, when most of us seem unable to even stay together, much less love each other?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The central secret seems to be in choosing well. There is something to the claim of fundamental compatibility. Good people can create a bad relationship, even though they both dearly want the relationship to succeed. It is important to find someone with whom you can create a good relationship from the outset. Unfortunately, it is hard to see clearly in the early stages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sexual hunger draws you to each other and colors the way you see yourselves together. It blinds you to the thousands of little things by which relationships eventually survive or fail. You need to find a way to see beyond this initial overwhelming sexual fascination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people choose to involve themselves sexually and ride out the most heated period of sexual attraction in order to see what is on the other side. This can work, but it can also leave a trail of wounded hearts. Others deny the sexual side altogether in an attempt to get to know each other apart from their sexuality. But they cannot see clearly, because the presence of unfulfilled sexual desire looms so large that it keeps them from having any normal perception of what life would be like together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truly lucky people are the ones who manage to become long-time friends before they realize they are attracted to each other. They get to know each other's laughs, passions, sadness, and fears. They see each other at their worst and at their best. They share time together before they get swept up into the entangling intimacy of their sexuality. This is the ideal, but not often possible. If you fall under the spell of your sexual attraction immediately, you need to look beyond it for other keys to compatibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of these is laughter. Laughter tells you how much you will enjoy each other's company over the long term. If your laughter together is good and healthy, and not at the expense of others, then you have a healthy relationship to the world. Laughter is the child of surprise. If you can make each other laugh, you can always surprise each other. And if you can always surprise each other, you can always keep the world around you new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beware of a relationship in which there is no laughter. Even the most intimate relationships based only on seriousness, have a tendency to turn sour. Over time, sharing a common serious viewpoint on the world tends to turn you against those who do not share the same viewpoint, and your relationship can become based on being critical together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After laughter, look for a partner who deals with the world in a way you respect. When two people first get together, they tend to see their relationship as existing only in the space between the two of them. They find each other endlessly fascinating, and the overwhelming power of the emotions they are sharing obscures the outside world. As the relationship ages and grows, the outside world becomes important again. If your partner treats people or circumstances in a way you can't accept, you will inevitably come to grief.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at the way she cares for others and deals with the daily affairs of life. If that makes you love her more, your love will grow. If it does not, be careful. If you do not respect the way you each deal with the world around you, eventually the two of you will not respect each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look also at how your partner confronts the mysteries of life. We live on the cusp of poetry and practicality, and the real life of the heart resides in the poetic. If one of you is deeply affected by the mystery of the unseen in life and relationships, while the other is drawn only to the literal and the practical, you must take care that the distance does not become an unbridgeable gap that leaves you each feeling isolated and misunderstood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many other keys, but you must find them by yourself. We all have unchangeable parts of our hearts that we will not betray and private commitments to a vision of life that we will not deny. If you fall in love with someone who cannot nourish those inviolable parts of you, or if you cannot nourish them in her, you will find yourselves growing further apart until you live in separate worlds where you share the business of life, but never touch each other where the heart lives and dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From there, it is only a small leap to the cataloguing of petty hurts and daily failures that leaves so many couples bitter and unsatisfied with their mates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, choose carefully and well. If you do, you will have chosen a partner with whom you can grow, and then the real miracle of marriage can take place in your hearts. I pick my words carefully when I speak of a miracle. But I think it is not too strong a word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a miracle in marriage. It is called transformation. Transformation is one of the most common events of nature. The seed becomes the flower. The cocoon becomes the butterfly. Winter becomes spring and love becomes a child. We never question these, because we see them around us every day. To us they are not miracles, though if we did not know them they would be impossible to believe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marriage is a transformation we choose to make. Our love is planted like a seed, and in time it begins to flower. We cannot know the flower that will blossom, but we can be sure that a bloom will come. If you have chosen carefully and wisely, the bloom will be good. If you have chosen poorly or for the wrong reason, the bloom will be flawed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are quite willing to accept the reality of negative transformation in a marriage. It was negative transformation that always had me terrified of the bitter marriages that I feared when I was younger. It never occurred to me to question the dark miracle that transformed love into harshness and bitterness. Yet I was unable to accept the possibility that the first heat of love could be transformed into something positive that was actually deeper and more meaningful than the heat of fresh passion. All I could believe in was the power of this passion and the fear that when it cooled I would be left with something lesser and bitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there is positive transformation as well. Like negative transformation, it results from a slow accretion of little things. But instead of death by a thousand blows, it is growth by a thousand touches of love. Two histories intermingle. Two separate beings, two separate presences, two separate consciousness come together and share a view of life that passes before them. They remain separate, but they also become one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is an expansion of awareness, not a closure and a constriction, as I had once feared. This is not to say that there is no tension and there are no traps. Tension and traps are part of every choice of life, from celibate to monogamous to having multiple lovers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each choice contains within it the lingering doubt that the road not taken somehow is more fruitful and exciting, and each becomes dulled to the richness that it alone contains. But only marriage allows life to deepen and expand and be leavened by the knowledge that two have chosen, against all odds, to become one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those who live together without marriage can know the pleasure of shared company, but there is a specific gravity in the marriage commitment that deepens that experience into something richer and more complex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So do not fear marriage, just as you should not rush into it for the wrong reasons. It is an act of faith and it contains within it the power of transformation. If you believe in your heart that you have found someone with whom you are able to grow, if you have sufficient faith that you can resist the endless attraction of the road not taken and the partner not chosen, if you have the strength of heart to embrace the cycles and seasons that your love will experience, then you may be ready to seek the miracle that marriage offers. If not, then wait. The easy grace of a marriage well made is worth your patience. When the time comes, a thousand flowers will bloom… endlessly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;by Kent Nerburn&lt;br /&gt;   From the book&lt;br /&gt;   "Letters to My Son, A Father's Wisdom on Manhood, Women, Life, and Love."&lt;br /&gt;   Published in New York by the New World Library, 1994&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114574539945838843?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114574539945838843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114574539945838843&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114574539945838843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114574539945838843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-have-never-met-man-who-didnt-want-to.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114550611756775331</id><published>2006-04-19T21:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T21:08:37.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ASalaam alaikum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So im off to canada...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;forgive me for my transgressions against you, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma'salaam&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114550611756775331?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114550611756775331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114550611756775331&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114550611756775331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114550611756775331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/04/asalaam-alaikum-so-im-off-to-canada.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114524474015029339</id><published>2006-04-16T20:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-16T20:32:20.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>why don't we lay out under the stars and watch the moon rise into dawn?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114524474015029339?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114524474015029339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114524474015029339&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114524474015029339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114524474015029339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/04/why-dont-we-lay-out-under-stars-and.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114444305082025236</id><published>2006-04-07T13:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.252-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Its you that I'm full of hate for&lt;br /&gt;Angry love efficiency packed inside me&lt;br /&gt;I'm making my angry love without you.&lt;br /&gt;Forgive my misgiving&lt;br /&gt;And I may have gone too far&lt;br /&gt;And given too much&lt;br /&gt;Your taking - not enough&lt;br /&gt;Forget my white gardenia&lt;br /&gt;made into the messy sheets&lt;br /&gt;open windows and air out&lt;br /&gt;our memory&lt;br /&gt;we've lingered so long&lt;br /&gt;flickering from flames to&lt;br /&gt;embers to ashes.&lt;br /&gt;All we have to grasp are&lt;br /&gt;handfuls of fleeting dreams.&lt;br /&gt;We are shadows of ourselves&lt;br /&gt;of course, &amp;amp; our lives are made up of&lt;br /&gt;the negative spaces between us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114444305082025236?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114444305082025236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114444305082025236&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114444305082025236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114444305082025236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/04/its-you-that-im-full-of-hate-for-angry.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114413901400523791</id><published>2006-04-04T01:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-04T01:23:34.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i can't sleep&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114413901400523791?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114413901400523791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114413901400523791&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114413901400523791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114413901400523791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-cant-sleep.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114410887522695699</id><published>2006-04-03T16:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-04-03T21:29:14.753-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The high points of my day:&lt;br /&gt;My little brother playing air banjo for me.&lt;br /&gt;Getting permission to go to Toronto... (for April... =D, im excited(inshaAllah all will go well)).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Low point:&lt;br /&gt;Realizing I have a 6 page paper due in less than 24 hours, which I haven't started on.&lt;br /&gt;Studying for my A &amp;amp; P 2 Lab exam at 11:30 pm (before I start my paper).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm going to start going back to Premiere Lady. In case I need to lay the hurt on someone. I need to make sure that I actually go and not just throw my $ at them. i need to convince someone into coming with me. I also need to do this so I have more energy during the day, and use my mp3 player, and zone out for a while. I need to find the point where my endorphins kick in and get that natural high.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114410887522695699?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114410887522695699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114410887522695699&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114410887522695699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114410887522695699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/04/high-points-of-my-day-my-little.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114392106004201949</id><published>2006-04-01T11:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-04-01T11:54:03.450-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I wrote this article for my school paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.” At the heart of secular freedom of speech is the first amendment. This gives us the right to express our views verbally, in writing, practice our religion and complain to the government if we are mistreated. Freedom of speech however is relative. The FCC constantly monitors and regulates TV, and Radio broadcasting. It receives nearly 200,000 complaints yearly and has the authority to revoke licenses and cancel programming which it deems indecent. Things such as desecration of the flag, false advertising and even debatable theories (evolutionism vs. creationism) are illegal or under scrutiny. So, within secular society the boundaries of free speech are tested by dynamic policies and norms.&lt;br /&gt;Within Islam, the idea of freedom of speech exists and is encouraged. The purpose is to search for the truth. However, it is also regulated by laws which do not vary upon the whims of society. Rather they are principles which have foundations in Divine Law. There are moral constraints which are between a person and God such as backbiting, cursing others, and heresy. People will be accountable for these with God. There are other legal constraints for things such as slander, accusing chaste women of lewdness, blasphemy or mocking the Messengers of God, for which we are accountable for within society. Within Islam, people are free to express their views and ideas, give their opinion, and seek counsel - as long as they do not lie, slander, or backbite. Some might feel that this defeats the purpose of freedom of speech. But does this hinder free speech, or resolve to have respectful speech and meaningful arguments in society? In the Quran God tells us, “And insult not those whom they worship besides God, lest they insult God wrongfully without knowledge (6:108).” Muslims are thereby forbidden to insult Buddha, Vishnu, Christ or gods of any other faith.&lt;br /&gt;The Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him) was scrutinized, verbally and physically abused by his enemies, throughout his prophethood and even after his death through the centuries. The message that Muslims get from the Danish caricatures is that the Danish newspaper and those who condone the mocking of Prophet Muhammad are acting as enemies of Muslims. The Danish caricatures incite hatred and belittlement for Islam and Muslims, in a world which is already growing in Islamophobia and xenophobia. It may have been freedom of speech, but it was not done with ethical and moral repercussions in mind.&lt;br /&gt;The same artist drew caricatures mocking Jesus (Peace be upon him) and yet they were never published because of the potential uproar and offense. A contemporary example of this double standard is when NBC stated that, Britney Spears was to appear on an episode of “Will and Grace.” She was to do a cooking segment known as “Cruci-fixins.” Within days of this news release the Tupelo-based, American Family Association protested and said it "mocks the crucifixion of Christ" and "further denigrates Christianity." NBC promptly responded with an apology and stated that it would not have the offensive elements in the episode. Perhaps NBC is just more aware of its ethical responsibility than the Danish newspapers and the others worldwide who have actively chosen to continue to offend Islam and Muslims everywhere, by publishing and republishing the degrading caricatures.&lt;br /&gt;This is not to say that a violent uproar is the best way to resolve this. Journalists and those in the media have a responsibility to publish wisely, and ethically. Muslims should also recognize that violent protests do not cause change or bring to light their point-of-view, rather they reinforce the idea that Muslims are violent. Anyone who makes bold claims about the character of the Prophet of Islam, should find out what that man really stood for and what he stood against. The Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) overcame all the obstacles and persecution from people by dealing with them wisely, and justly. It is an example for Muslims and people everywhere to understand the example he set. He was not only a great figure in Islamic history, but also in the history of the world. His character, diplomacy and standards of ethics are something which if we modeled the world would be resolved of many of its evils.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114392106004201949?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114392106004201949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114392106004201949&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114392106004201949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114392106004201949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/04/i-wrote-this-article-for-my-school.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114382545689955536</id><published>2006-03-31T09:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.252-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;pre&gt;Mad Girl's Love Song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;&lt;br /&gt;I lift my lids and all is born again.&lt;br /&gt;(I think I made you up inside my head.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,&lt;br /&gt;And arbitrary blackness gallops in:&lt;br /&gt;I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed&lt;br /&gt;And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.&lt;br /&gt;(I think I made you up inside my head.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fancied you'd return the way you said,&lt;br /&gt;But I grow old and I forget your name.&lt;br /&gt;(I think I made you up inside my head.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have loved a thunderbird instead;&lt;br /&gt;At least when spring comes they roar back again.&lt;br /&gt;I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.&lt;br /&gt;(I think I made you up inside my head.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sylvia Plath&lt;br /&gt;(Edited)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114382545689955536?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114382545689955536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114382545689955536&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114382545689955536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114382545689955536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/03/mad-girls-love-song-i-shut-my-eyes-and.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114351563758091385</id><published>2006-03-27T19:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.252-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>7 minutes of complete submission&lt;br /&gt;and a flicker of indulgence&lt;br /&gt;the remains are a&lt;br /&gt;blackend heart&lt;br /&gt;surrended to temptation&lt;br /&gt;surrounded in a cloud of&lt;br /&gt;remorseful repentance for&lt;br /&gt;a lifetime. So heavy,&lt;br /&gt;so thick that no flicker is seen&lt;br /&gt;nor shall any flicker pierce through&lt;br /&gt;again&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114351563758091385?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114351563758091385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114351563758091385&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114351563758091385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114351563758091385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/03/7-minutes-of-complete-submission-and.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114282601034331107</id><published>2006-03-19T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-03-19T19:40:10.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;re·as·sure&lt;/b&gt;   &lt;a href="https://secure.reference.com/premium/login.html?rd=2&amp;u=http%3A%2F%2Fdictionary.reference.com%2Fsearch%3Fq%3Dreassurance"&gt;&lt;img src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/AHD4/JPG/pron.jpg" alt="Audio pronunciation of &amp;quot;reassurance&amp;quot;" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;span style="display: none;"&gt;(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="border-style: solid; border-width: 1px; font-family: verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 7pt; color: red; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 204);"&gt; P &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="display: none;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;a title="Click for guide to symbols." onclick="ahdpop();return false;" href="http://dictionary.reference.com/help/ahd4/pronkey.html" class="linksrc"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Pronunciation Key&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  (r&lt;img alt="" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/AHD4/GIF/emacr.gif" align="bottom" height="15" width="7" /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/AHD4/GIF/lprime.gif" align="bottom" height="22" width="3" /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/AHD4/GIF/schwa.gif" align="bottom" height="15" width="6" /&gt;-sh&lt;img alt="" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/AHD4/GIF/oobreve.gif" align="bottom" height="22" width="13" /&gt;r&lt;img alt="" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/AHD4/GIF/prime.gif" align="bottom" height="22" width="4" /&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;i&gt;tr.v.&lt;/i&gt; &lt;b&gt;re·as·sured,&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;re·as·sur·ing,&lt;/b&gt; &lt;b&gt;re·as·sures &lt;/b&gt; &lt;ol&gt; &lt;li&gt; To restore confidence to.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt; To assure again.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114282601034331107?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114282601034331107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114282601034331107&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114282601034331107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114282601034331107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/03/reassure-p-pronunciation-key-r-shr-tr.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114162088971865234</id><published>2006-03-05T20:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T14:02:51.253-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"  &gt; &lt;pre&gt;And you as well must die, beloved dust,&lt;br /&gt;And all your beauty stand you in no stead,&lt;br /&gt;This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,&lt;br /&gt;This body of flame and steel, before the gust&lt;br /&gt;Of Death, or under his autumnal frost,&lt;br /&gt;Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead&lt;br /&gt;Than the first leaf that fall, --- this wonder fled.&lt;br /&gt;Altered, estranged, disintegrated, lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nor shall my love avail you in your hour.&lt;br /&gt;In spite of all my love, you will arise&lt;br /&gt;Upon that day and wander down the air&lt;br /&gt;Obscurely as the unattended flower,&lt;br /&gt;It mattering not how beautiful you were,&lt;br /&gt;Or how beloved above all else that dies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- &lt;a href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Essiyer/minstrels/index_poet_M.html#Millay"&gt;Edna St. Vincent Millay&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/pre&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114162088971865234?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114162088971865234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114162088971865234&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114162088971865234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114162088971865234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/03/and-you-as-well-must-die-beloved-dust.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114116624653163284</id><published>2006-02-28T14:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-28T14:55:29.730-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Seven and a half&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took seven and a half days for the&lt;br /&gt;Sun to come out after she died that day&lt;br /&gt;What can you say to him only twenty&lt;br /&gt;two ? He knows the truth, and so he might,&lt;br /&gt;he might write about it to cope with the hole&lt;br /&gt;Instead he'll fight about it and cling to what's left&lt;br /&gt;Ever wonder what your life would be like in a million&lt;br /&gt;jagged pieces strewn across time? The worst&lt;br /&gt;part is - he stayed sane and had to deal with all&lt;br /&gt;his and our emotions. He had seen her smile his&lt;br /&gt;whole life, even when he couldn't fathom a smirk. &lt;br /&gt;All the towels stacked neatly in the closet&lt;br /&gt;and skinned knees on their way to healing.&lt;br /&gt;The sun came out and there was every smile&lt;br /&gt;he ever knew. Her memory could not be clouded&lt;br /&gt;So what do you tell him only twenty two,&lt;br /&gt;when all the smiles of his life have disappeared in&lt;br /&gt;seven and a half days forever? Sunless-&lt;br /&gt;the bruises hardly heal and messy towels&lt;br /&gt;leave him distraught searching for life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114116624653163284?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114116624653163284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114116624653163284&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114116624653163284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114116624653163284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/02/seven-and-half-it-took-seven-and-half.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114110755455466617</id><published>2006-02-27T22:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-27T22:19:14.576-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Everything here isn't about me. everything spoken, felt or thought here isn't always me. just a disclaimer =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114110755455466617?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114110755455466617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114110755455466617&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114110755455466617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114110755455466617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/02/everything-here-isnt-about-me.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114097654865635826</id><published>2006-02-26T09:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-26T09:55:48.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;pre style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Love is not all: It is not meat nor drink&lt;br /&gt;Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain,&lt;br /&gt;Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink&lt;br /&gt;and rise and sink and rise and sink again.&lt;br /&gt;Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath&lt;br /&gt;Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Yet many a man is making friends with death&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;even as I speak, for lack of love alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It well may be that in a difficult hour,&lt;br /&gt;pinned down by need and moaning for release&lt;br /&gt;or nagged by want past resolution's power,&lt;br /&gt;I might be driven to sell your love for peace,&lt;br /&gt;Or trade the memory of this night for food.&lt;br /&gt;It may well be. I do not think I would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; -- &lt;a href="http://www.cs.rice.edu/%7Essiyer/minstrels/index_poet_M.html#Millay"&gt;Edna St. Vincent Millay&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114097654865635826?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114097654865635826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114097654865635826&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114097654865635826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114097654865635826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/02/love-is-not-all-it-is-not-meat-nor.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114058353090923354</id><published>2006-02-21T20:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-21T20:45:31.110-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Stop ruining me&lt;br /&gt;till all that's left&lt;br /&gt;are hopes and dreams&lt;br /&gt;with psuedo realities&lt;br /&gt;and psychotic smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stop ruining me.&lt;br /&gt;humbly tainted and corrupted&lt;br /&gt;old habits die hard&lt;br /&gt;especially when they're&lt;br /&gt;destructive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't trust you&lt;br /&gt;all that's left are&lt;br /&gt;the ruins of hopes&lt;br /&gt;and my nightmares&lt;br /&gt;of dreams&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114058353090923354?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114058353090923354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114058353090923354&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114058353090923354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114058353090923354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/02/stop-ruining-me-till-all-thats-left.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17612496.post-114049529230691632</id><published>2006-02-20T20:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-02-20T20:15:38.680-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>09022005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It amazes me&lt;br /&gt;how quickly you can&lt;br /&gt;depress me&lt;br /&gt;although im otherwise&lt;br /&gt;quite content&lt;br /&gt;living&lt;br /&gt;and you made me realize&lt;br /&gt;i don't live much at all&lt;br /&gt;My 20/20 is blurry&lt;br /&gt;and I just figured out&lt;br /&gt;it was hindsight&lt;br /&gt;im blinded by the sight of you&lt;br /&gt;and one day&lt;br /&gt;it'll all be over&lt;br /&gt;and we'll wonder&lt;br /&gt;where it all went.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/17612496-114049529230691632?l=sammerai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/feeds/114049529230691632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17612496&amp;postID=114049529230691632&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114049529230691632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/17612496/posts/default/114049529230691632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://sammerai.blogspot.com/2006/02/09022005-it-amazes-me-how-quickly-you.html' title=''/><author><name>sammerai</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02600164699003373304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
