Crushing chocolate bars and mixin'er up

Chocolate bar, regular: A mash up of cocoa and such, nearly 50% of which is sugar.

When you're making any variety of hot chocolate from scratch, I implore you to use an already sweetened chocolate bar rather than a baking chocolate, reason being that a baking chocolate has very little sugar and you will run out of sugar trying to sweeten up the hot chocolate you're making to the point where your guest utters incredulously, as you pour more sugar into the pot: 'Ok, this is getting scary', before they are nice enough to pretend they enjoyed a little bit of the hot chocolate syrup you made and to which they added an additional half a cup of milk after you've cooked it to within an inch of its life and you are discombobulated because you usually make a mean anything and then magically, you are the worst host in the world because you can't make a cup of freaking hot chocolate, the taste of which stays with you over night, even though you threw out the rest the night before and flossed and brushed your teeth and doused yourself with spray Lysol to get rid of the taste and the shivers brought on by the memory.

Or, you can just do what I did this morning en route to work and save yourself the necessity of adding 'milk & sugar' to your grocery list.

Original Recipe (OR): Two people whose friend chemistry works extremely well.

Crush: Take the OR and wonder aloud to strangers on the street, beneath your breath at a meeting, while you're on a bus staring at one of the aforementioned strangers, while seated on a Ferris wheel or buying the wrong variety of chocolate...what would happen if I added a few new ingredients to the OR? Maybe a little saffron, turmeric and a dash of chilli?.

Life: What happens regardless of the addition of saffron, turmeric and a dash of chilli.

Friendship: Withstands all of the above, and then some.

Getting 'My Ass to Class' Gets a Whole New Meaning

I box twice a week and do my absolute best to make every single class. Short of there being a natural disaster like a flat tire or exhaustion from the donation of blood, I get my ass to class as a nod of respect to my word and to my coaches.

Approximately three weeks back, I was lazy and considered not attending class. I hate the word lazy, and in all fairness, it was more that I was exhausted because I was sleeping very little at the time. Lucky that I went because that evening was the first one in a week that I slept like a (bad ass) baby.

After finishing class, I headed for the world's worst designed change room. In order to get there, I had to walk through the weight area (hello, boys!). The first thing I saw was a man in a wheelchair. I'm not sure of the specifics of his paralysis, but by the atrophy of his arms, I think perhaps that he was once a quadriplegic who slowly regained the use of his arms. He was strapping one arm into the weight machine very slowly.

I didn't catch anything beyond that because I'm not a complete idiot and didn't wish to stare. Also, because over the course of the two seconds I used when I glanced at him, something caught in my chest, made its way to my throat and then exploded. I had started to cry. As I am drenched in sweat by the end of class and usually look as though I forgot to take my clothes off before stepping into the shower, no one could see tears streaming down my face. I quickly bowed my head and ducked into the closest washroom. And I cried. And cried. And kept crying, weeping actually, because I had lost all control over myself.

Boxing for me is a luxury I love to indulge. Truth be told, I don't think about the healthy dimension it adds to my life - most important for me are that it attacks all of the stress in my life, kicking the shit out of it, and as equally important, vanity. Boxing makes my arms pretty and keeps my ass fitting into my size six jeans.

(And on that note,

Dear Anna Wintour,

F*ck You - royally - for thinking it's acceptable to plaster across your latest issue When Size 4 is too big: a curvy model’s struggle to fit in. You're an asshole, and somebody should strap your bony ass into a chair and force-feed you hamburgers, fries and a lot of cake.

Bite me,
Maha)

All I could think was how I had nearly not showed up because I had been tired. I had been tired and had considered not attending class, and instead taking my lazy ass home and relaxing, while there is this amazing and incredible man who can barely move, who can barely make the smallest of movements, fighting and struggling to do just that, at the gym, busting his ass because he has to. Neither for vanity nor stress, but rather because he doesn't have a choice.

He did it.
Repeatedly, he does it.
He makes it to the gym and fights his own body in order to rise above the paralysis one millimetre at a time.

I am still struggling to understand why it affected me as much as it did - even writing this has me near tears. I think, partly it's because I am beyond expression moved by his strength, which outweighs my own, and also because somehow that little window that opened and let me look into his life was one filled with hope.

Before walking out of the washroom, I knew that I had to start getting my ass to class for a different reason; out of respect for this man's personal fight, because clearly, he doesn't have the luxury of lazy and so neither should I.

I try my best not to take for granted anything, but mobility wasn't something I had noticed before. Odd, right?

Now when I move and walk, and I am impatient walking behind the elderly (not to be confused with a slowpoke who still needs to MOVE IT), I check my impatient asshatted self and remember to respect all aspects of what I have, including the luxury to move freely and quickly on my own two feet, alhamdulilah.

I hope you do the same.

**********
Photo courtesy of one amazing Antitude.

Worth Noting

That at this same time of the years spanning 2005 - 2008 inclusive, there were moments of deep sadness in my life. Each year, there was a particular thing, for lack of a better word, which I had granted entry into my life (be it an individual or a situation), the consequences of which always ended in some sort of emotional blueness.

This year, nothing. No sadness and no drama, and most definitely no emotional upheavels.

It's the fkng holidays and I am happy and satiated beyond expression.

Yay.

Also, I hope you are as well - and if I am any measure, trust that it will get better. It really, really, really and truly does...even if it takes a few years.

Comments closed.

On Being A Mean Girl

I have been working on developing my World View (WV) and doing my best to make it coherent both in my head and to those I love, and naturally, to anyone who will listen such as the dude on the corner yelling at me asking me if I am a sinner who fornicates...and to whom I am considering giving my url. This WV is a set of principles by which I try to live my life in the best way possible. Naturally, and as one would expect, it has been shaped mostly by the values instilled within Islam.

I finally labelled it a WV sometime over the course of the last two or three years. This happened during a time of struggle when I was trying to make sense of something that was non-sensical; applying the principles to my own behaviour when forced to make my way through the maze of a foggy sense of betrayal.

Always, my primary concern was to ensure that my behaviour was not a reaction to the actions of another, but rather behaviour which was a reflection of my WV. Also, that I started from a position of trusting people and believing their intentions were good, no matter the outcome. Naive, yes, but gentler and softer and kinder than the alternative. I fought against the urge to react as a meanie, when dealing with a meanie; to react as an asshat, when dealing with an asshat; to react as a bully, when dealing with a bully. Unfortunately, at a few days after the turn of the Year of (your) Lord 2009, I lost site of this.

Over the course of a couple of years, and in different circumstance, I had given too much; I had stretched myself so thin on several occasions that my snap-back, when it did finally happen, was severe and extreme. A precise moment in January 2009 was not the only catalyst, but rather the one which broke the camel's back.(1)

I reacted in kind to an action. In fact, it was not 'in kind', but rather 'in extreme kind'.

Why did I do this? Because I had had enough. I had had enough of being kind and good and understanding and forgiving and gracious and trusting, and receiving nothing more than junk trash from some people around me. I did this because I was sick and tired of opening up my heart and making myself vulnerable and then being hurt. I was sick and tired of people recognising the goodness and the trust and taking advantage of it.

I did it because I was hurting and I needed to self-preserve.

More importantly, I did it because I had lost site of my WV and the fact that a huge part of who I am is someone who is in fact kind and good and understanding and forgiving and gracious because that is who I am proud to be, rather than someone who behaves in this way in order to receive the same in return. (Since the later is a fraud and frauds give me hives.)

When I lost site of my WV, I became a different creature, and it was in fact Mama who pointed this out to me. She told me that something about me had changed over the course of this last year - that I had become vicious in my response to people and suspicious of their intentions and that is not the way she raised me. I had lost my inclination to forgive and be understanding and Mama was disappointed in me. This conversation was with respect to a woman I love and admire and hold in the highest regard.

In that moment, sitting across from my mother, something broke inside of me...and at the same time, something greater was solidified. What broke was the Mean Girl, and what was solidified, inshallah was the girl I have always fought to be. (And I will tell you honestly that writing this is making me extremely emotional.)

This was my wake-up call, and the woman I hurt remains at the top of the list of My Three Worst Blowbacks from my ten month asshatery trip. I was cruel and suspicious, and brutally self-centred with a woman I dearly love, a woman who has never ever once in our relationship hurt me, and who, in a moment of complete and total self-delusion, I could have hurt beyond measure.

I couldn't sleep that night because I could see again. I could see that somewhere over the course of the past ten months, there had been a shift in my mind's eye view which affected my behaviour and which led me to believe that I deserved to stop giving, because I had given enough, and now people owed me.

Imagine.
Imagine the self-importance I felt for ten months.
Imagine the asshat - any asshat - who would believe such entitlement? That was me, and I was a Mean Girl Asshat. Oddly enough, it was not conscious of this at the time, instead chalking it up to other people getting what they deserve after I had allowed them to take from me for so long.

I started to only focus on what people gave me from that moment on. In the instance of A, I forgot about our history and every single time she had held me tight until I didn't need to be held anymore. I had become the very thing I have hated since I can remember - entitled. Worse still, I was mean - and let me tell you, my friends, there is an unbelievable capacity within me for cruelty. Again, where A was concerned and through my sense of asshat entitlement, I couldn't see that I needed to give her understanding, patience and time. I needed to give, but instead I wanted to take in a most callous manner.

Ultimately, I failed someone I loved on a scale of Supreme Asshatery. My behaviour in that moment both devastates and shames me.

I lost site of the fact that I have always prided myself on how open and engaging I am with everyone; that I have always been happy to say "I would rather love hard and be hurt hard than love in shades of pale and never feel the full hurt of that loss, and instead be safe and protected".

I lost site of the reality that what should be my only concern ever, is my own behaviour, rather than the behaviour of others, and that made me a judgemental asshat.

I lost site of the foundation of my WV: that I believe in the goodness of people, even in their greatest moments of asshatery, and I work hard to understand them and forgive them and still love them, even though I may choose to no longer have them in my life in any formal capacity. I do this because no one created by God is born with the intention to hurt, and yet we are all guilty of being asshats at different moments in our lives.

And at the end of the day, I have to believe that anyone who has hurt me didn't come into my life with the intention to hurt, but rather they were trying their best and their best somehow managed to hurt me.

To those of you who would take advantage of this sort of thinking and to anyone who believes there is a greater Power, then understand that one day we will deal with a greater Judge than another human being could ever be, and our behaviour and the consequences of that behaviour come full circle and we will be held accountable for taking advantage of goodness and kindness. And, so, as my own eating of humble pie has taught me, gentler, kinder, softer was always the better route, anyway. Deviating from that path at least allowed me the opportunity to solidify that belief.

Take a walk along that street, if you haven't already, and let me know what happens.

**********
(1) One day, I will share with you the story of this catalyst, but not yet as it is much too fresh still.

(Image courtesy of Gen Pren.)

New Face Photo?

Have you ever thought about what your Facebook photo says about you? I think, in general, we are safe to make the massive generalization that we choose photos we believe represent us. We can expand this to include: how we wish others to know us.

This is my current FaceBook photo. Notice the subtle messages this photo conveys to my friends (and now you, 6 precious readers): (1) I eat snakes; (2) I am ALIVE; (3) I am a WEIRD GEEK; (4) I have a fantastic leather jacket (feels like butter, tastes like chicken): and, (5) I have creepy red-eyes.

My photos fence-straddle Extremely Happy Dork or Smasher Of The Stupid (fence-straddle: here, I had originally accidentally used the word 'facilitate', intending to use the word 'vacillate', only to Thesaurus.com the little b*tch and come up with the gem 'fence-straddle'. Feel free to call me James Joyce...just make certain you call me...ruhahaw...).

These are the two Maha's (apostrophe or no?) I am most aware of / happy with / see as my true self, and so the ones I wish to share with my friends and general fanbase of 6 readers.

(Look: It's not like I am only jolly when stumbling around smashing random people; it is, though, that I don't let people fuck around with me. I call people on their shit immediately, and without hesitation, even if it makes them uncomfortable because they're wanking cry-babies. The alternative? I absorb their shit behavior and give myself an ulcer in an effort to make certain I don't rock the boat and instead placate the asshat. No thanks.)

Right. Hold on, let me scroll up and read what my point was.
Ok. So it appears I don't really have a point and shall instead end the above thought here, but not before I tell you that a little while back, I was seated next to a man who must have been an archaeologist because his finger was digging very far up his nose.

Hope you're all having a lovely weekend...xoxo

How do you spell 'truth'?

Naively, I used to believe that the answer to this question was simple until I met several who – though winning Spelling B’s in their own environment – spelled ‘truth’ in a variation of the most creative means, starting at f-r-a-u-d and right up to m-i-s-r-e-p-r-e-s-e-n-t-a-t-i-o-n.

I understand that there are situations where a grey representation of fact is more well-intentioned than a black and white one (i.e., your partner tells you that it was a short-lived one week fling, rather than a one-night stand). ‘White lies’ where we stretch the truth in order to position ourselves in better light (and please, don’t try to sell me on the idea that such white lies are about ‘protecting the feelings of the person you’re lying to’, when we all know it’s just a way to ensure you smell a little more like roses and in place of an unwashed slob).

White lies are not my concern – and granted, whereas a white lie such as the above is minimal to me and would solicit loving jabs of ‘hello my slut’ and perhaps a temporary renaming of him in my mobile to ‘My Awesome Slut’, I recognize that it could mean trauma for another. (For me, the trauma in this situation would be the addendum: ’And this one night stand wasn’t with Antonia…it was actually with Anthony’. We all have our limits and mine happen to exist within the confines of heterosexuality. If you think that makes me some sort of a Neanderthal non-progressive sexually repressed female, then I respectfully respond with: go fk yourself.)

Also, my concern is not the lies we tell our parents at any age – we all get a free pass with the ovary and the sperm units, and this is in fact the only time I myself hide my coward’s ass behind the ‘I lied because I didn’t want to hurt them’ excuse.

The lies I am speaking of are those of the full-frontal variety. Where truth is spelled black and white and instead it is delivered as a rainbow of pastels with some hint of neon.

Let me clarify this by providing some examples, as we appear to exist in a time and space where the loophole is the norm:
Q: What time is it?
A: It’s 102 o’clock and two pinches of a frog’s ass.

Q: How tall are you?
A: I am the wind and the sky and there is a small furry animal standing atop my head with extraordinary oratory skills.

Q: Where goes thee?
A: Salut. Je m’appelle Maha et je suis un oiseau qui s’appelle Thomas et puis bow-wow-oink-oink-shaboom-shabam I like donkeys.

Not quite clear?
Then how about the following examples:
Q: Are you married?
A: No! (When in fact…hello Mrs and two babies.)

Q: Are you straight?
A: Yes! (When in fact…hello Idon’treallythinkIneedtogiveanexampleherebutokayanalsexwithothermen.)

Q: Are you a Repulican?
A: Yes! (When in fact…hello Bible Thumping rapist of other Peoples’ natural resources, war profiteering Zi*nist.)

More to the point, I have been curious about the lies that shatter foundations. The lies that are so grotesque in their weight and telling that they cripple us when we hear their mirrored truth after the lie has run its course (as for those of you foolish enough to believe otherwise, please note that: every single lie eventually runs its course. We shall all be found out. All of us.).

So then, why do we tell the kind of lie to which I refer?

I used to think the answer to this varied from one person to another, until I woke up and smelled someone else’s bullshit.

The reality I have come to accept is that the only time we lie the sort of lie I am curious about, is when we are assholes.

Really. It’s that simple.
We lie – about the situations and realities that would shatter worlds - to hide (usually) something we know to be unacceptable to or grotesque in the eyes of the person to whom we are lying. [Be it motivated by shame or because we know that to tell them the truth would mean an outcome not of our choosing (read: their reaction won’t go according to our own game plan).]
Truths that are not hurtful or wrong or to be ashamed of have no need for hiding.
Ergo, truths that are hurtful, wrong and to be ashamed of have a need for hiding.
(And in keeping with the spirit of Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, our third option is that we don’t know why people lie.)

And so we, the liars, apart from behaving like degenerates who create truths that require hiding, we then go on to commit an equally odious act: deciding for another individual that we shall not afford them the luxury of truth - that we will rob them of it.

We refuse to accept this when our politicians do it, and yet the same outrage does not necessarily exist when we measure the behavior of people in every day situations.

Amazing.

And honestly, what a bunch of assholes we all are.

**********
Note 1: Instead of lying, try shutting up.
Note 2: Re above Note 1; it can be argued, very strongly, that an ommission or truth, though it does not directly contradict the truth, is in fact equal to a lie.
Note 1 + Note 2 = Note 3: You can't win if you're a stupid degenerate liar.

On asshattery & being a pushover

Pre-emptive note no1: I have to do this because I've received a couple of odd emails from people asking if this was about them. For the record - NO. If you're someone with whom I am communicating in any way shape or form (even if it's a kind email once a year), this entry is not about you. If this entry was about you, you'd have known it beyond the shadow of any doubt.

Pre-emptive note no2: If this entry isn't about you, then neither is the one titled On Forgiveness & Apology.

Alright. In the spirit of Ramadan, you'd think that what I am about to write will be soft and kind and gentle and all things forgiving. But it's not. In fact, it's quite the opposite of all things gentle. It shall also be very short because you need to know that the entry I wrote about forgiving someone who hasn't asked for your forgiveness way back in February of 2008, isn't for everyone. This entry still generates a flurry of emails weekly; it is not for everyone, specifically neither the forgiver nor the forgivee.

It's not even for me, at all times.

It's how to behave in an elevated manner, and quite frankly and specifically to me, when I see the asshattery around me, I have no desire to always be 'elevated'. I retain the right to be a machete when facing any lying, cheating, thieving, oppressing, passive aggressive, eye-rolling abusive fuck-up. And so should you.

There is a fine line between being elevated and being a fucking moron when it comes to letting people get away with shit in your life. You want to be a degenerate pushover?, be my guest; just don't play the martyr of elevated and enlightened behaviour, and instead make sure to own it and suck it up like a real wo/man.

The bottom line is: there are some people that you will never forgive, whether it's because you don't feel like you can actually get past it / they deserve it, or because you can't be bothered to repeatedly expend the copious amounts of energy required to forgive the asshattery of someone who never acknowledged or owned the act of lying, cheating, thieving, oppressing, abusing you and your trust all the while, paper-cutting you to death with their passive aggression.

Just make sure that the anger sits in a silo labelled 'so-and-so', and it doesn't spill over on to how you treat anyone else. I expect to be held accountable for my own asshattery, not that of others. Extend that courtesy to those around you, at least...

**********
Footnote: Yes. Even the ones we choose not to forgive aren't born to hurt us. And just because you choose not to forgive someone, it doesn't mean you're labelling them 'evil'.

P.S. Clearly, this is in response to all of the other emails whose sole focus is men / women in a relationship. Just so we're clear - we do know that people need forgiveness, and people perform fantastical feats of asshattery even beyond the confines of dating, right?

P.S. Immediately below this is a quote from the Qu'ran on how to not let other people's poor behavior change how you would act. Call me a bad Muslimah, go ahead...I'll forgive you.

On Judgment: Monkey, Pippy & Thomas Shop @ Consumers

.1. All week, I have been thinking about the promise I made > to write a new entry < and I must admit that it's weighed heavy on me, this promise. Oddly, it seems to have both placed pressure on me to think of something coherent and also, to paralyze my move to puzzle old words together in an effort to create something new. For this reason, I have decided to simply write. This is more a stream of consciousness, rather than an entry with one specific idea and purpose. But it is an entry and it has been promised and now here it is...

.2. Because so many of you seem to have found something which resonated when you read The Story that Hides, I will provide a small contextualization for this written bit.

I began writing that in November of 2007, a couple of weeks after I had my heart completely beaten to a pulp by someone, an occurrence that had never happened before and one by which my entire self had become displaced. That's all anyone needs to know about that piece.

That and the fact that a slight variation of it will likely become the first chapter of a more complete story some day.

.3. I spent 10 days in Vancouver in October. It was lovely as Vancouver is a stunning city and the weather gorgeous.

The most incredible day spent there was the one during which I spent a few hours in Pigeon Park. This is the most notorious park in the City in terms of poverty.

I picked up 25 sandwiches, coffees and cookies from my favorite shop (Smart Mouth Cafe at 131 Water Street, no 117 - highly recommended next you are in VanCity) and took them, with the help of three employees across the way to the park.

There we handed them out to anyone who wanted and I spent some time speaking with the prostitutes and the junkies and peoples' grandchildren and grandparents covered in lesions and cuts and bruises, scrapes and scraps of clothing not warm enough for even a summer's day.

I left there a little broken and invigorated, a little sad and a lot confused. I wandered for a few hours in my own head considering that any individual making different choices or living different experiences could be in that park. None of us are immune and we must extend grace and love to all.

.4. Speaking of which, we were recently out to dinner and had a very heavy discussion about this particular idea of 'judgment'.

Among the folks at dinner was someone vehemently opposed to judging the actions of others: "People who judge are assholes. Who the f*ck are they to judge me?" Interestingly enough, in their judgment of individuals judging others and opposition to said judgment, they had become complicit in the very thing they were opposing: judgment. (Tautology is the vice of Dr. Seuss, didn't you know?)

I kept my mouth shut and didn't point this out, choosing to instead name the shrimp in my Yum Mamuang and wrote in my head their journey from ocean to kitchen. It was called "Monkey, Pippy, Thomas and Famke Fall Into A Trap, Are Caught, Then Get Grilled". Maybe I'll share it some day...

But. I think since judgment is inevitable and a part of human nature, perhaps the key is to temper it with a sort of mercy. Attempt to understand the actions you've judged and do so in as gentle a manner as possible, remembering that people are not inherently bad, though we all tend to act in foolish and hurtful manners many times in our lives (whether it's because we're spoiled a**holes with a heavy sense of entitlement, or because we actually didn't know we were being a**holes).

On this note, here we need to acknowledge the difference between understanding an action and justifying that same action. Also, that there are some things we simply can not stand for - now, extend this perspective to social justice and then make no difference between the shit and unacceptable behavior of one individual against an other individual (e.g. one man refusing to serve another because of the colour of his skin // one man abusing his wife) and collective behavior against any group (e.g. laws supporting segregation // women not being allowed to vote, own property, etc.).

There is great danger in us denying the direct link between the individual and the collective. (See below End Note.)

The moment we recognize and own the reality that each action we take must be a reflection of a social fabric wherein we look out and care for one another in an equal and respectful manner is a first step to doing away with the horrible atrocities we commit against one another, be it collectively or individually.

Don't ever think that we, as individuals, can act without impunity, or that our actions are disassociated from our world view or the freedoms we fight for, the social justice me must uphold.

(I am guilty of falling short of this on many an occasion and I've behaved like a Grade-A a**hole, but I work hard to recognize my stupidity and then remedy it when I can and as immediately as possible. The above is as much a reminder to myself as it is a reminder to anyone reading it.)

End note: If you are of the belief that we - and only we - are responsible for ourselves and no one else is responsible for us, and that we can't be held to a higher standard of extending responsibility and comfort to others who are hurting or who have been oppressed or whose rights have been sh*t on, then you can take your nihilistic individualistic perspective and f*ck off - this writing isn't for you, and neither are the opinions within.

.5. And in a small effort to end on a funny note, I'll ping you a little story that came to mind while out at lunch with S some days back.

Do you remember the store Consumers?

One would walk in, choose from their catalog, mark their choice on a paper, take said choice to counter, place order and then one of the employees would bring from the back room the item and the customer would pay.

It was, in essence, on-line shopping without either the 'on-line' portion or the waiting for the snail mail portion.

I would become so excited at the prospect of going to Consumers with my parents that I would reach a level of both near hysteria and near black-out excitement.

Seated in the back seat almost incapable of breathing, I would, as baba came to a rolling stop in the parking lot, shoot running from the backseat and into the store, aimed like an arrow for the Consumers counter.

Why?

Because they made pencils for Me. Each and every Consumers pencil was made specifically for Children - they were half the size of Adult Pencils and so made with only Me and my brethren in mind.

I coveted the Child Pencils and left Consumers with at least 10 lining my pockets each trip as my mother dragged me pouting and unhappy from the store declaring "there must be something else we can buy".

I was grateful for their acknowledgment that the world was not for adults alone. No one has come close since...

RIP, Consumers.

.6. Sorry this entry is completely lame. But it is an entry and it's a first step to me overcoming the shit writer's block that has placed my mind in a logjam...xxoo

Dating Advice from the Non-Dater (this Female Canuck): His friends are more important than you (seriously, they are)

As those of you who live here know, I am a relative non-dater. I've always been able to do without, and unlike some RoboDaters I know, I've never been one for a relationship either. When the few have happened in the past, they've developed organically and they've been good - the very small number of men I have dated remain good men and I wouldn't trade the experience of getting to know them for anything in this world.

It's never been about quantity, but rather quality, and it most definitely has never been about a need to fill space and time in my life. That I am giving you my loser advice is just so that you may have a little food for thought this evening.

Recently, a girlfriend of mine started dating a new man. He is, for all intents and purposes, a good man. An honest man; a 'stand-up' kind of guy who doesn't play games or open doors that he never plans to address ever again. He is the kind of boy you hope your best friend will become acquainted with...

But - and I write 'but' with hesitation - he has, according to her, one very serious flaw and it is that: He spends much too much time with his friends and he has made a point of making clear that his friends are more important to him than she is at the moment. He's also made clear that should things change in the shape of their relationship, then that too will change. (I wrote 'according to her' because they have only been dating a couple of months and this short period does not, should not, can not, and will never trump the years of friendship that any individual has built, nurtured, nourished and maintained. Male or female, there are priorities; friends are among those priorities.)

Look. This guy isn't spending 6 nights a week with his boys in bars (and if he were, then just fkn walk already and stop complaining; that you choose to remain in said situation is your problem and not his and only the best of humanity behaves in non-typical fashion. The sad reality is that most both men and women will try to take a mile where you offer an inch; taking advantage of one another is a brutal reality that we each face every day...the only thing you can do is ensure that you do your best to avoid doing that to someone when opportunity presents itself (and it always will)). What he is, is he is spending an ample amount of time with his new girlfriend and he is also spending an ample amount of time with his friends. Because - unless the scenario shifts into one of true love and commitment - the new boyfriend / girlfriend exist on the outside of the circle. His friends are the circle closest to him (and if he is a decent man, then so too is his family) and you exist beyond that. That changes if and when he chooses to change it, or it may simply change on its own (read: organically).

If you have a problem with that reality, then you need to find a different man.
Personally, I think it's pretty sexy when a man is fiercely loyal to his friends because that means that should there one day be a shift in your relationship, then he will be as fiercely loyal to you as he currently is to his friends. This is not to say that should there be a crisis in your life, he tells you he can't see you or talk to you or be there for you because he's playing football with his friends that night. Naturally, there are limits (and if you're dating a boy who would do that, then again: the problem is yours and you need to cut your losses).

Almost as importantly as the above, you should remember that his friends - just as your friends have and continue to do so - have contributed to the man that he has become. They have contributed to the man you may one day fall in love with, and you need to respect that. You need to respect them and their presence in his life. (Another caveat is that: if they turn out to be shits who don't in turn respect you or your presence in his life, then that's a whole other scenario you must eventually address. But a strong man, a good man who is in love with you - if that turns out to be the case - would never stand for anyone disrespecting you, just as you should never stand for anyone disrespecting the man you love. Loving one another must amount to seeing and treating one another as giants (and letting the imperfections of one another be a part of that 'giant'esse, since no one is perfect).

Now. If you operate on the reality that as soon as he walks into your world, you immediately do away with your friends and wait wait wait wait for him to call you so that you may get out there and do something, then you're not a very nice friend to your own circle and if I were a man, I'd watch for that behaviour and wonder how and why, if you can't be loyal to your own circle, I would ever expect you to be so loyal to me. Unfair as it may be, it's a gut reaction that can't be denied.

Ultimately, you are not a priority until you are. And when you are, then you need to still respect the importance of his friends and shouldn't be a jealous super freak of them; imagine what you would call your best friend's new partner if he didn't want you coming over...or taking a weekend away with your best friend...or heading out for a night. Imagine what you would call him? I know what I would call him...and it's not a very pleasant thing. Don't be that person and get a hobby instead.

The euphoria of a new relationship can not equal the denial of existing ones, no matter how exciting and loving and intriguing your new relationship may be. Because should this new relationship fall apart, it is your closest circle of friends who will gather you from the dirty floor and tuck you in every night until you heal & heel. Remember that, always.

**********
Note 1: The above is not to say that a year into the relationship, if there's been no change or shift in the dynamic between you and him and his friends, you shouldn't walk - the decision is yours and you lay out the groundwork accordingly in terms of what you're willing to "tolerate". Just consider the above a perspective that's all too often lost when you are watching romantic movies and reading romance novels. Keep it in mind when you're getting to know a new man and are existing within that awkward state of 'dating' when you have no idea wtf is going on. Should and when you have enough, then cut your losses and walk away without hesitation and without once looking back and remember that that is the very definition of grace.

Note 2: None of the above stands for a hurtful man who uses his friends to hurt you...who goes out of his way to point out that you're not as important as his friends in a passive aggressive way. That's just an asshole, plain and simple. All forms of passive aggression are shit and shouldn't be allowed into your life (unless you're an asshole, too). The above only stands for the good men you meet > you know who they are, and those of them reading this will also know who they are...

“A Guidebook for the Mindless Insecure Female: How to entrap an insecure man and marry him!”

I was recently going through a friend’s bookshelf and among a deeply disturbing volume of this genre’s nonsense, I stumbled upon: Why Men Marry Bitches: A woman’s guide to winning her man’s heart.

I paused.
Took a very deep breath.
…& proceeded…

[Aside: A few years ago, a girlfriend moved out of the country and I inherited a stack of books, among which were a few of this sort. Mostly, they were tips for dating that were relatively hilarious. Unlike my girlfriend (who I adore), I’ve never been a big dater because I tend to find it annoying and boring, ergo, the books amounted to fodder for fun. (Another aside: This is not to say I don’t date, but rather, it is to say that I only date when my interest is very peeked and that doesn’t happen very often because I would rather spend time alone than on a date with a dummy.)]

Plot
During the short time it took me to rip through this book, I found myself physically reacting to it by turning the pages with such force that I may have ripped a few pages. Perhaps.

Forget about the offensive title; as in this day and age, that a woman would refer to other women as ‘bitches’ and consider it a compliment boggles the mind. (This a personal belief that stems from my perspective on empowering oneself through the embracing and owning of words that were once used to attack said individual such as the use of the ‘n’ word. I am deeply offended when I hear it, no matter who may be using it. Clearly, I do not engage in standpoint epistemology.)

Moving past the title, I’ll touch on the two caricatured genders within the book:
A: Men are one-dimensional insecure creatures who will never be honest with a female and who only react to mistreatment and game-playing.

The proof is in the pudding(!), as follows:
1) Men are manipulative even though they don’t really know what they want. Case in point: Men like a good cook in the kitchen. You can feign being a good cook by buying a lot of pots and pans and always leaving them out. He’ll marry you and he’ll never notice that you can’t cook. Instead he’ll start cooking!

2) Men are simple and only need the following: sexual escapades in the bedroom (and please do not tell him the truth about your past. And if the ‘truth’ is in fact…true…then he won’t believe you anyway. A 34 year old virgin? WHO ARE YOU KIDDING?)

3) Men are disrespectful and must be ‘put in line’ by your glorious ‘bitchiness’. When this happens, you will then be able to change the true nature of the man , turning him into a pussy because that's what he secretly wants.

4) Men are not honest and are mean-spirited so you must always be on the alert for such behaviour and you must always be able to ‘give as good as you get’. This is called ‘information gathering’ and it is called ‘being sassy’. Never mind that you’re reading this book, ergo are mindless, ergo wouldn’t understand sass if it bent you over the couch backwards and had its way with you. Please don’t be direct and ask him if something’s up – instead, play games because you are a pathetic creature and your number one hobby is How Can I Manipulate A Man Into Marrying Me?. Better still, go to Hawaii for a weekend of fun in the sun with your girlfriends and feed off of one anothers’ pathetic-ness.

5) Always take a man at his word. I love that you're too dumb to notice that this is one of the many blatant and opposing viewpoints within this book.

6) Men are weak and on this weakness one must play in order to hook and sink said ‘man’; this is the true nature of 'love and marriage'.

7) Men only want a ‘fun’ girl so never show him your ability to bring down the hammer when necessary; don’t ever have a difficult moment, just be ‘fun’. Furthermore, you must refrain from behaving "emotionally", since that is your weakness, Female. Finally, please remember that it is in Male nature to be difficult and when that happens, accept it and roll with it while you place a beer in the fridge for him. Give him time to cool off; he will respect your level headed response because he doesn't expect that from a female. (Sub-section to point 7: Always keep him guessing!)

B: Women are one-dimensional insecure creatures who are not allowed to be engaging, passionate, honest and real. Instead, they must only be reactionary and strategic in their approach to ‘the man they love’ (because when you’re in love with a man, your natural female instinct is to be a c*nt; don’t fight it because it’s inbred since Eve).

Generally, a female must:
Play games.
Manipulate.
Lie.
React.
Entrap.
View men as both the enemy, as well as prey.
Believe that Dolly Parton, she of the unnatural body and face, is a role model to which one must aspire.

Specifically, a female must:
Never tell a man she misses him (or risk being a downer and needy).

Stroke the man’s ego by saying things such as ‘I feel safe with you’ – don’t worry about the truth or merit of that statement. He’s stupid enough to never see through your games. You are brilliant; pat yourself on the back.

Never tell a man you like him. Make sure he says it first, and then that way you will be the one who has control and power over him, rather than the other way around (because there’s no room for equality between a male and female, most especially not in a relationship. Remember: You’re at war, so keep your eye on the ball: INSEMINATION!).

Always remember that every action he takes is about you, and you must react accordingly. While you're at it, please ask him to reiterate his fondness of you by constantly providing you with reassurance that you're The One...just like in The Matrix.

Important! NEVER ASK A DIRECT QUESTION. (Or maybe I've already mentioned that?)

Critically, a female must:
Never tell a man she likes him, finds him interesting or is looking forward to learning more about him.
Just don’t do anything that would be engaging. Instead, let him do the work because that is the only way he will appreciate you.

Because he, in the same fashion as you, is a mindless insecure freak of nature.
Because he, just as you, is a fkn incompetent socially inept individual.
Because he, just as you, likely spends all of his time fixating on everyone else’s actions and trying to then react to said actions…
Because. Because. Because it is easier to follow and to react than it is to possess confidence…know what you want…and make a point of going for it.

After all, who needs self respect and honesty when one can play games?

Glaring Aporia Within The Plot
The premise of this book is to ‘make yourself gone’ and know that ‘you don’t need to be married to be okay’; to have a full life is when you will ‘make him chase you…until you catch him’.

Naturally, this begs the question: If you have a full life and don’t need marriage to feel complete, then why in holy hell are you buying a book that is all about entrapping a man in your efforts to be married? Because last I checked, you don’t eat a cupcake to reduce the size of your ass, and you don’t go to the gym, to thicken that same ass. And you most definitely do not purchase a book about entrapping men if you’re not interested in said fkn entrapment…unless, of course, you are in fact a degenerate retard and 2 + 2 = 17 in your world.

Curtain Called
Set aside the above blather and the glassy-eyed nature of the caricatured genders about which this book was written.

Clean your palette and pay very close attention to the following, please...

The only ‘rules’ you need (and this only pertains to the truly confident among you – male and female) are: A quality individual who is worth paying attention to and one worth engaging with will never be entrapped. More importantly, they will see right through the game playing (and if they didn’t, would you want to be with someone so stupid, anyway?).

A quality individual will never think you’ve called too many times or said too much or been too honest. A quality individual will be honest and will expect honesty, and if they can’t handle either, then you will find someone who can take you for all of you. (This should not, by any stretch of the imagination, be misunderstood as a green light for either the male or female to be psychotic; You can love and be loved and respect one anothers' borders. In fact, this may be the only way to love.)

Specifically, to women, let me say that in your efforts to be ‘strong’, you do not need to be an asshole and you most definitely do not need to be disengaged from the man who has peeked your interest because trust me when I tell you that it takes a strong woman to be weak in the right man’s arms. And if anyone tells you that wanting someone is a form of weakness, then you’re speaking with a needy individual and neediness is a far cry from wanting.

Though you’re a smart bunch, let me clarify: Wanting someone amounts to a realization that they are, indeed, someone who brings added value to your life. Wanting someone is extending a warm set of arms to a person because you wish to do so. Needing someone is because you feel incomplete alone; unfortunately, if you feel incomplete alone, no one will ever be able to fill that gap, marriage or otherwise. (Essentially: Loners are sexy for this very distinction, as they fall into the former category.)

Finally, I will say that being strong is not being a bitch. What it is is a clear awareness of the person that you are and what you bring to the table. No one can touch or shake that if it's solid within your own mind. Period.

Unlike the bile spewed by such books, the reality is that both men and woman are emotional creatures. The reality is that both men and women have their own brand of crazy; the nuanced approach is to learn about the crazy, embrace the crazy, don’t try to change the fkn crazy, and let the crazy run its course when it needs to. (If either the male or the female can’t handle the crazy, then you’ll find someone worth your salt who will love you and all of your crazy, and vice versa if you need someone with less crazy. Don’t try to change who you are to meet the fake breasted caricature of relationships created by offensive books such as these…please…)

All of the above to say: Please stop perceiving the opposite (or same, or either) sex as the enemy. The sisters will thank you, as will the boy bands.

2007: On Regret

For those of you who have lived here on a regular basis, you know that 2007 was a definitive year for me. In fact, I can now say that 2007 may have been the most definitive of my wee little life thus far.

Every single day brings us face to face with a dozen mini choices; on some days, the choices made define the essence of our character. For nearly six months in 2007, I was facing choices that lent a hand to shaping who I was and what I stood for. Not one of those choices was simple or easy. Most definitely, not one choice made was made with a light heart. But, each one of the choices I made in 2007, I would make again in a heartbeat. Every euphoria and every trauma and every deception and every single point of me, I would relive and relive with an open and trusting heart.

Although many of the people who I met in 2007 are no longer a part of my life (nor will they ever be a part of my life), I will always cherish the time in which they were a presence in my days. Thankful and grateful, too. People don't necessarily come into our lives to stay, but rather to help us and themselves reach another stage in our lives. They must leave because the lessons learned are ones that can only be learned once their presence is no longer felt.

That reality is only a sad and difficult thing to accept if you are not willing to see the good in every single situation.
If you choose to focus on merely the ugly and the painful, then you will not understand that at the essence of everything is goodness because you will be much too busy trying to make sense of a painting while standing with your nose pressed against it. Likely, you are more comfortable wallowing in how you have been wronged and how you are owed, rather than learning and breathing and living through the most difficult experience in order to improve who you are.

Likely, you live and then you regret.

But that's not the way I have ever functioned and it is most definitely not the way I will ever function.
For this, I must thank and cherish Islam, because the foundation I stand upon is one of Faith and Belief, and that foundation demands that I be thankful for every single thing that comes in to and potentially leaves my life. As a Muslimah, I must believe that I am blessed - in fact, that we are all blessed by virtue of being alive - and not merely pay it lip service. That alone is enough. That alone is enough to teach me that 2007 is a blessing.

More importantly than that particular concept in Islam, though, is the other, and that is: we should fear nothing in this world but Allah.

I have one too many times seen regret lead to fear, trepidation and bitterness. I've actually watched as someone wallowed in their past and actively denied their present. Fear of committing the same mistakes over which they currently wallow. Fear of being hurt.

But here's a little secret for you: you will always be at risk of getting hurt, so buck up and deal with it, already. Denying it won't stop it, but it will stop you from evolving. Worse still is that it is a terrible way to waste a short and wondrous life, this living in fear.

Remember that in order to regret, you must emotionally pull yourself out of today; you press the pause button on right now and you instead turn your mind's eye to yesterdays. (It's like 'nostalgia', which is more often than not, merely another way of communicating your displeasure with right now.)

And quite frankly, you shouldn't have time to do this because you need to concentrate on today. How and who you will help today. How you will improve today. How you are going to work today to make a better tomorrow. There is enough pain in this world for you to focus on, none of it having to do with your sad state.

Ultimately, "regret" is a means to self indulge and self spoil and many personalities are comfortable in that state. It is an irresponsibility that you level against your own potential and future. And just as you wouldn't harm your body physically, so too should you never stand in the way of your own potential and motion forward.

Here's the kicker, kitties (let's get ready to shed our egos): We must believe that everything in this life happens for a reason and that reason doesn't necessarily have to do with our life. Sometimes (and this you must accept if you perceive yourself as a functioning part of and contributor to the overall unity of society), we have to understand that we will go through traumatic situations for the benefit not of our self, but of others.

Crazier still is that we may never know how our pain helped someone else. And yet, we must accept it with open arms. (Odd this concept of altruism, n'est pas?)

But that takes strength.
And the question becomes: Are you strong enough?

Something F*cked Up This Way Comes

Have you read about this yet?

These are teenagers. They are no longer children. Although - clearly - their minds have not yet developed fully (and I can't help but wonder if with this much stunted growth already, what kind of stellar brain power they will have in the future), they are old enough to know what's right and what's wrong. Albeit a lacking one, they possess the ability to distinguish which actions are acceptable and which are not.

And yet...and yet...

And what of their parents?

Well. According to the Trash Mother of one of the Trash Teenagers, the Trash Teenager was provoked into this behaviour. Forget that the Trash Parent isn't sophisticated enough to make a distinction between justification and explanation, and is not attempting her speak to help us understand, but is rather using her Trash Tongue to justify her Trash Kid's actions...

Well done, mamas and papas. Well done! You get an A for A**hole. Thanks for the exceptional future you're building through your children.

And if the woman who was beaten did in fact post something inflammatory on her mySpace, then where the hell is her parental control? (Am I blaming the victim, here? Because. Seriously? Seriously. If she is indeed talking sh*t about the other kids, then her actions need to be brought under speculation so that the situation may be traced back to the source. Something, somewhere would have set this off. Something, somewhere went wrong and that - whatever it is - remains the catalyst for what we're seeing today. And if that very thing isn't rectified now, then this situation will never cease.)

If anyone wishes to dispute the level of control you can exert over your child - and that this is in no way to be associated with / blamed on / traced back to the mamas and the papas - then bring your stupid, disassociated, uneducated, wanting excuse for a life-view on. There is nothing I would enjoy more, at this moment, than discussing the messed up individualistic, alienist, Leviathenesque jack-ass behaviour of these teens and the direct correlation of this behaviour to their parents' lack of direction, lack of morality, lack of kindness, lack of humanity and lack of making clear accountability and responsibility. I can guarantee that these kids have never understood the concept of either the later.

...and an excellent Monday morning to you, sunshine...

Secretly wishing someone would "mist" Dr. Phil

.1. My body is still hibernating. It sees a potato and angels start singing.

.2. A "Bacetto" chocolate is not a Baci chocolate. They are both made by Perugina and they are both packaged in exactly the same way. They are also both hazelnut focussed.

Only: The Bacetto does not have a poorly translated and usually hilarious "fortune" within, leaving the chocolate eater to wonder if they accidentally chewed up and swallowed the paper fortune.

Don't be fooled and don't settle for anything short of a Baci.

.3. Someone gifted me "an aromatic spa refreshing facial mist [that is] ideal for toning the skin and awakening the senses!" (exclamation mark theirs not mine). It comes in a small spray bottle which one is meant to point at thine face and spray.

I did this and found it neither 'refreshing' nor 'misty', but rather aggressive and hostile.

I tried it several times, hoping I would soften and get used to the on-slough of spray. Only, the more I sprayed, the greater my recoil and shock at the force of the "mist", and the greater reason my skin will have to wrinkle as I scrunch it up in anticipation of the "pure essential oils of ORANGE & GRAPEFRUIT & natural GREEN TEA" (yelling theirs not mine). I was holding it up to my face this morning and I couldn't actually bring myself to mist; same paralysis I would encounter if I tried to bite myself (near impossible to draw blood unless you have psychological issues that would permit you to set aside your body's natural biological reaction to fight and ward off the potential hurt bla bla).

It may have to do with the fact that I sprayed a direct line into my left eye and nearly drowned myself in it because I forgot to close my eyes and my mouth and plug my nose.


.4. If you know an under-ten, please take them to see Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears A Who. It's one of the books I always gift under-tens and it's a message most adults could use to learn.

.5. I used to think Dr. Phil was good, until I watched a complete show around a month back and it hit me like a ton of bricks that: He's all about "owning your sh*t" and that this is a novelty in this day and age is the reason people like him so much.

So...essentially, the reason he's so popular is because we've turned into a society that does nothing more than enable crap behaviour, and when a normal thought pattern comes on to centre stage (such as: Own. Your. Sh*t.), we think it's some kind of miracle.

So. I'm officially removing my support for Dr. Phil because I think it's lame that we've propelled to stardom a dude who is selling what should be so obvious to anyone who thinks they are a functioning part of and contributor to a healthy society.

OWN IT, ALREADY. YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS BY NOW. IT SHOULD NOT BE YOUR END POINT, BUT YOUR FRIKING BASE-LINE. (And if you, for one second, believe that anything worth having can be found in a 42 minute show and without hard work and life-long commitment, then you're a bigger loser than...the biggest loser in the world.)

(It's like The Secret. It was NEVER a "secret". I'm rolling my eyes so hard that they look as though they belong in the head of the person sitting next to me and they've accidentally landed in my sockets and are trying to find their way out. Roll. Roll. Roll. Never. A. "Secret"!)

.6. In case you have yet to notice: I am intolerant today.

On Forgiveness & Apology

Lately, I've had to think a lot about how you forgive someone who hasn't asked for forgiveness. I've not worried about whether they think they owe me an apology, because my concern here is what goes on in my head and how that behaviour then translates on to those I care about.

I've finally realised that the answer is simple, even if the process to reach this answer has taken me an excruciating amount of time plus the energy of days spent writing this entry. Admittedly, this entry is a little all over the place and without clear lines because forgiving someone who has not asked for forgiveness has no clear lines, either.

Back to the subject matter at hand: I only now understand that the reason I couldn't find the answer was because I was asking the wrong question. I was asking how can I forgive?, when I should have been asking what is it that I have to forgive?

This confused me and hurt me and forced me to relive some of the ugliest moments in my life because, quite honestly, there are some actions that are: unforgivable. Your self respect - never here to be confused with pride - kicks the shit out of your stomach every time the thought of forgiveness enters your mind, your rationale rages against the forgiveness, your heart sobs when it even considers it and your entire body is shaken by the mere thought of the acts in question. The consequences of these acts can only be described as what a nuclear bomb would feel like if it were to go off inside of our bodies.

That's what happened to you; that's what you're trying to forgive...complicated and made uglier and more hurtful (I didn't think that could happen after a nuclear bomb, but it can) by the fact that the individual who has committed these acts has not acknowledged, has not owned, has not addressed the acts in question. And they've been presented with the opportunity to do so. They've been presented with it and yet, they have not done it. They have not apologised, for whatever excuse they have found to justify their lack of involvement. They believe they are above the apology. And by default, that then makes you unworthy of that apology. And that default, created and sitting somewhere in the back of their mind has absolutely nothing to do with the reality of you.

So. What if no one thinks enough of you to apologise? How do you forgive someone who hasn't asked for your forgiveness? How do you forgive this nuclear bomb that went off inside of your body and its residue?

Simple.

You disassociate the action from the antagonist.
You forgive the latter and you dismiss the former because it had nothing to do with you and because what you are forgiving is their weakness of character rather than their action. Forgive them because we are not born with this intention to hurt. Afford them that allowance, and nothing more ever again. Because this allowance, this allowance is huge and it should be the last one they ever receive from you.
And then: you must cut them out of your life, completely.
(Don't harbour ill will toward them because then it's as though you never really forgave. Carrying it with you hurts you more than anyone else, and the bottom line is: it's over. Don't be bitter about it. Just accept that you've walked away and end it there. Ultimately, in situations such as this, there are no winners.)

It's the combination of the act and their lack of apology that amounts to their losing the very real privilege of having you in their life in any capacity. That they were given the opportunity to apologize - short of you screaming into their face I NEED YOU TO APOLOGIZE TO ME - is what makes the situation and the environment one to which you can never return. And this is so difficult to face, it is so difficult to swallow, even if you're the one doing the walking. But you have to do it or you will always be incapable of demanding the respect that you are owed; and if you couldn't demand that respect after a nuclear bomb went off inside of your body and the individual didn't have the decency to apologize, then nothing is owed to you. And this is the consequence of your behaviour if you choose to go back to that environment in any capacity.

This - the loss of you - is the cost and consequence of that nuclear bomb plus their weakness that is their on-going and continuous inability, refusal, whatever, to not offer the apology.

There is only so much we can take. There is only so much we can put up with. And there is only so much room we can use to make excuses for others and for ourselves. Because, when they ceased understanding responsibility and accountability and honesty where you were concerned, that was the moment that you no longer became accessible, whether you realised it or not. Because, you are always deserving of an apology and when that apology doesn't come, then that lack of accessibility to you becomes tangible, and this is where you realise it. It's in this moment that sheets of ice water come at you and you are forced to face the disrespect that has been levelled at you. It is in this moment that you have to take a stand. And trust me, I have fought this moment and I have tried to argue myself out of this moment, but the ice water has become unbearable and my self respect finally told me that I either man up or I bitch out, and I'd like to think that the only bitches I have in my life are dogs...and I don't own any of them, either.

Why apologise?
Because, we are beholden to one another and the apology is the respect we show that reality and those we hold dear. And when someone doesn't apologize, it means they don't respect you and that means that all bets are off.
Because, we don't have the right to belittle the pain of others. And if someone is hurting because of us, then we owe them that apology. We owe it. And only the self-involved and arrogant would argue against that reality, and I don't much like for Ayn Rands in my life.

Even when, we don't think the apology makes sense: We. Should. Issue it.
Because, kindness to one another is all we have in the end.
And it is what allows us to sleep with pure hearts; it is what allows others to be at ease in our presence; it is what allows us to open our hearts to others.

Most importantly, the apology is what tells us that that individual has taken a moment to place themselves in our shoes. It shows that they care about us enough to think twice about what they've done. And when someone doesn't do that, then it means they don't care. And it means, you're not worth the second thought and it speaks volumes about your character if you let someone like that back into your life when they have crossed too many lines to name. Because the slots in your life that are saved for friends are slots better spent elsewhere. This lack of apology has rendered this individual: unworthy. Period.

But. But, the only way you can make the above statements without any level of hypocrisy is when you issue your apologies without hesitation, when they are immediate and unadulterated. It is only when you respect the pain of others that you are allowed to make the above demands of them. Note the word 'respect', because those who don't apologize are the people who don't respect us. (And I will always hold fast to my belief that the level of respect we show others is a direct extension and reflection of how much we respect our selves.)

And that is the way that I have always operated and it is the way I will continue to operate because it is one of the things that makes me a good person. I own my actions. I own my situations, each and every one of them. And I do not shy away from my responsibility to others.

That's not to say I haven't fucked up on colossal levels, because I have. What it is, is it is to say that I issue my apologies immediately, because I don't have the right, I don't have the right to hurt someone and then not issue that apology. I don't have that right. And neither do you.

And so: it really is that simple.

Forgive their weakness of character. And then, turn around and walk away because you don't owe respect to those who offer you nothing but disrespect.

To those of you who would harbour ill will toward someone after you have made the choice to forgive them, just remember that people aren't born with the intention to inflict pain. It's not how we're built, but rather what we become because of the choices we made in the past. And it is what we can cease to be in a moment if we so choose. In a moment, if we so choose.

Harbouring that bitterness only edges you closer to a world of greater pain, resentment and defensives. You build walls because you're too scared to be hurt again - but you will be hurt again, no matter what you do. It's a part of life and it's a part of the pleasure of this life because it's in these brutal moments of pain and hurt and in the way you overcome them that your character is defined. And here, you have a choice. You either face this life or you run from it. You either challenge it or you succumb to it. You either rule it or you are ruled by it.

Just like the choice to own your shit and apologise for it. You either own and define it, or it owns and defines you.

And two final notes to those of you who would not apologize: First, that the only people who are capable of hurting us on the level of a nuclear bomb are people who are close to us. Sometimes, they may be the closest to us - and so you know. You know us and you know that your actions hurt us. You don't today and you will never in the future have the luxury of saying "I didn't know". Second, understand that you are not perfect and your refusal to apologize has a particular stink of arrogance about it. Issuing an apology would be admitting to a mistake and a mistake means that you are less than perfect. And to be flawed is not what a 'perfect' person is, but trust in the fact that you were never perfect, that you are currently far far far from it and you will always remain just that far away. You might be well to not confuse confidence with the emotional retardation brought on by too much pride.

12 Feb 2008; Edit to add this link.

Lessons Learned

I learned that whenever I opened up my heart and made a decision based on love and hope, I almost always made the right decision, even when the result was a painful one.
I learned that one of the greatest challenges to our selves brings with it the greatest benefit to our lives and those we hold dear: looking at our actions, owning them, holding ourselves accountable and responsible at every turn and at every choice made.
I learned that an individual's character hinges on their ability to accept this very responsibility for their actions.
I learned that patience is truly a virtue and to one which I'm not naturally inclined.
I learned that the only people who are scared to "loose themselves" are those who don't know who they are to begin with.
I learned that Crack does, indeed, make me happy.
I learned that anger and resentment breed bitterness that changes every aspect of who we are and how we live.
I learned that everything is a choice.
I learned that I suck at poetry, though am a supreme rhymer.
I learned that in love, there is no room for pride...and where there is room for pride, it is not love.
I learned that the amount of respect you show others is a direct extension of how much you respect yourself.
I learned that walking on a crack in Crack won't break anyone's back but my own.
I learned that ending a conversation with "we agree to disagree" is quite possibly the best way to end a conversation with family.
I learned that forgiveness of an action does not equate absolution of that action.
I learned that when living honestly, you can live more in one day than most others do in one life time.
I learned that I am an optimist.
I learned that to be of sound mind and body are the most profound of blessings and it is these we most often take for granted.
I learned that starting from a position of fear, defensiveness and self-pity is just another excuse for one's paralysis.
I learned that if you really want it, you may have to spend the rest of this life fighting for it...and that's perfectly acceptable.
I learned that I have the most amazing parents in the world and they keep surprising me at every moment.
I learned that at the outset, no one needs to earn my trust because I give it freely; but when it's lost, it's lost entirely.
I learned that except for my facing God, absolutely everything in my life is up for change, if you can convince me.
I learned that when you shake someone's hand, you need to take off your glove if you're wearing it, stand up if you're sitting down, and take off your sunglasses if you're wearing them.
I learned that life goes on - usually stronger and bigger and warmer - no matter the trauma to our hearts.
I learned that evolution and dissent posed by one against themselves is a sign of a healthy mind.
I learned that f*cking things up once in a while is good for you because it teaches you, in no uncertain terms, of where you don't want to be and therefore where you need to go.
I learned that the perfect shade of red nail polish doesn't exist.

And...I learned that kindness is the currency of human interaction and no one likes a cheap bastard.

My Favourite Boy

Two of my cousins are in town from Denver this week. These boys are the closest thing I have to brothers and they have never once let me down. Naturally, we get into fights, as do all family members...but 99% of the time, we're solid. We share sibling mothers and so are quite aware of the attempted emotional terrorism and torment the sisters often wield; this serving as a special bond, much like the one shared by POW survivors. (I have to say here that I have an edge because mama's changed dramatically these last few months and is still doing just that; it was either that or further fragment our relationship. Maybe one day I'll post about this point in particular...I'm not sure yet.)

This is Homer (Omar):



He's had a pretty rough year about which I will only say that I, Alhamdulilah, am so thankful and amazed to see him so well and vibrant and healthy and back. I love this kid to death and I've yet to meet anyone with a heart the size of his. He's finishing up Business something-or-other and he'll own half of Denver some day - he's a hustler of the first order and can manage and charm anything and anyone. He also grows the world's tastiest tomatoes.

This is Major (Maher):



Currently working construction and soon to begin pre Med in January, Inshallah. It's been interesting having him around because he's matured so very much in this last year and a half and it's an absolute pleasure to talk politics, religion, family, friends, relationships and life with him. He's a sponge for knowledge, and I can see him in ten years being such a strong and solid man in the lives of those lucky enough to know him.

The only one that's not here at the moment is this guy (who you may remember was the first boy to ever send me flowers), Rock (Ragheb), the soon-to-be 'Homo Doctor' (currently in Tempe, Arizona studying at Southwest College of Naturopathic Medicine):



...this being my favourite picture of him because he's not even posing. Needless to say, women tend to drop trou around him and I'm sure the girl who took this photo passed out as soon as she went Click. (Re the beads, I think in Tempe there's something similar to Mardi Gras and chances are he started with a U-Haul of those necklaces.) He's here receiving a special blog entry because of how much support he's given me these last few months, and how engaged and patient he's been. He is my touchstone and my comfort blanket. Period. (When we're not chatting on the phone, he's offering me support via email such as found here.)

I can only here discuss him because the other boys are still developing who they are; I have no doubt that within the next few years, they'll be the same calibre of man as Ragheb...God knows they're well on their way. Also, I'm going to talk about Ragheb because it's to him that I'm closest. (And he knows all of my secrets.)

There are two things I admire most about Ragheb - apart from his obvious willingness to listen to me for hours and actually pay attention to what I'm saying and then provide feedback. First is that's he's a fighter, and from this comes a fierce confidence. I've never known him to back down, to be scared of anything, or to ever simply stop. Ever. Nothing to him is unattainable and it is amazing to learn just how engaged he is in this life. Even when he's f*cked it up - which we've all done - he's immediately stood up and forged a different road to get to where he needs to be. His only fear is one: God.

Second, he never imparts blame and instead takes full responsibility for his actions, absorbing the repercussions of his choices without so much as a sigh of protest. I am reminded of this at every conversation and I am pushed to be a better woman because of it. I've recently discovered just how critical it is to acknowledge all of the errors I've made as an individual and that find me where I am today. The moment we blame others is the moment we say: I am not responsible, I am not accountable. There's a fine line here between moments in life where we are truly not responsible, and those instances where we actively cede responsibility because it's the easier thing to do.

The bottom line is, we live and we learn and we make mistakes - for most of which we are responsible - and we move forward still. (I think the choice here is that we live our lives either blaming everyone else or acknowledging our engagement in the composition of who we are and where we are. Obviously, this doesn't mean that people don't wrong you, because sooner or later someone most definitely will, it just means that apart from you dealing with that particular wrong, those people are of no concern to you - your concern is your own character and how you treat people, even when you've been wronged.)

Back to My Favourite Boy. I've said this before and I'll say it again: the woman to whom he will be devoted is blessed, because for all of his fierceness, the core of him is of unshakeable devotion and loyalty.

I LOVE HIM.

Ok. I'm done gushing.

Keep your eyes on

Burma (the demonstrations yesterday ended in the death of one Monk) & Gaza (eleven Palestinian 'militants' - usually a title bestowed upon any opposing the actions of the State of Israel - killed yesterday & today. If history has taught us anything, it's that Israel will likely undertake a full-out assault on the Gaza Strip very very soon).

And remember that silence = complicity.

As you listen to the spin of the news - the free press that once served as a check and a challenge to the acts of a truly democratic government has now become the arm of all Sovereigns, and therefore representing all claims to self-determination as terrorist in nature - remember this following poem by, perhaps, one of the most powerful poets of our time Wislawa Szymborska.

In Praise of Feeling Bad About Yourself
The buzzard never says it is to blame.
The panther wouldn't know what scruples mean.
When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame.
If snakes had hands, they'd claim their hands were clean.

A jackal doesn't understand remorse.
Lions and lice don't waver in their course.
Why should they, when they know they're right?

Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton,
in every other way they're light.

On this third planet of the sun
among the signs of bestiality
a clear conscience is Number One.

Aside: If the above poem is how you always magically perceive your actions, then you need to take a closer look at what you've become and where you're headed.

Al-Sahar

'Al-Sahar' = Dawn
'Tasahur' / 'yitsa7ar' = Eating at dawn

Another tradition most of you would enjoy immensely during Ramadan is 'tasahur', which is the Arabic word describing the meal taken right before dawn (when fasting begins). During Ramadan, different customs take over in different parts of the Muslim world. For example, in most of the Middle East, you'll find the streets overflowing with families and friends heading out to eat at restaurants between 3.30 and 4 am. In Gaza, and due only to circumstance, families will eat together at home and listen to the radio (when they have electricity).

This specific time of day - when dawn breaks - Muslims believe to be unique. I'm uncertain as to whether this is lore or religion, but I do believe in the spirit world and so understand that there are things entirely beyond my comprehension; I believe that the significance of this time, is one of those things.

It's said that dawn is when the spirit world is most palpable to us in this world. (1) Prayers at this time are encouraged and it's only at this time that visions (the Arabic 'ru'ya' = the English 'vision', which is not to be confused with the Arabic 'hilm' = the English 'dream') are received. (2)

The last time I was in Gaza for Ramadan, this was also the time that Israel would drop the most bombs. Against my family's wishes, I would go to the rooftop with my sweet mint tea and watch the light show courtesy of Israel. I felt I owed it to those being murdered...it was all I could do...I would sit there, usually with tears in my eyes thinking of how blessed we were to be given another day of fasting while others who'd prepared their 'tasahur' never had a chance to enjoy the triumph of one more day making a reality this particular gift to God. (3)

Seedo was the only one who would be able to pull me back inside, and so everyone knew this, respected it and left us alone. Without saying anything to me, he'd come to the rooftop, open the door and I would go downstairs with him. He'd kiss me before I went back to bed, always taking my tea cup to the kitchen for me...

The next time you wake up anywhere between 4am and 5.30am, know that you're waking up with thousands of Muslims in North America eating and having their morning coffee and tea in preparation for their daily fast. Also: Be thankful that you're alive.

*****************************************************
(1) So then the spirit world has EST and Mountain Time? No...I think this means that wherever you are located geographically and in this dimension you can sense the spiritual world most when you are within the time frame of dawn. Anyway, the initial question is perhaps moot as it presupposes that the spiritual world runs on the same schedule of 'time' as we do, and this is a question we'll never be able to answer.

Seriously, yo, even Hawkings won't deny the possiblity of something beyond us, so open your mind a little bit...

(2) I'll eventually discuss the deep tradition of 'vision' interpretation in Islam which dates back to the Prophet.

(3) Because for all of the logic and reason behind fasting, the true reason for it remains unknown - it is the one pillar within Islam that God asks us to do for Him and Him alone. The 'reasons' given are all interpretations, possibilities, potential; a reflection of the human mind's endless need to answer the question: 'Why?'

Freedom!

Before you begin reading, please note that: Of course there is a middle-ground that below I’m not discussing. I’m speaking in the same extreme as that spoken by the window and the commercial mentioned. Understand that the state we are in is because of a backlash against the over interference of the Church and the moral arm and all of the history that has brought. But who the f*ck decided to throw the baby out with the bathwater? (I'm adding this as an after thought - Michelle pointed out that we can't point at only one thing here, and she's absolutely right. There are many factors to blame for our current state, only a couple of which are mentioned below.)

We went out recently, sat on a patio and I was this close to shooting myself.

One gem of an overheard conversation was the following:
“I just threw up in the bathroom.”
“But you still look good.”
“Thank God! I’m so lucky I can do that. Look. He said he thinks I’m cute and he wants to f*ck me.”
“AWESOME. He’s so hot.”
“Yeah. I think he likes me. I’m going to go with him.”
“What’s his name again?”
“Uhm. I can’t remember. Anyway, uhm, how are my chubs?”
“AWESOME. That’s totally why you picked up, bitch!”
“Right. I’m out.”

If I were to try and communicate either my pain or shame at overhearing this, I fear I may bring down my blog server.

Link to: Behold what we’re selling our young women (Be) and to our young men (Expect):



The above is a display window of a very popular shop in Ottawa. Notice, her jeans and underwear are around her ankles. She has wine bottles in front of her and her head placed on the toilette, clearly denoting the sexy state of inebriation that induces vomiting. The two background figures are one male and one female and written on the mirror is: “For a good time call….”

I stood in front of the display staring with my mouth open when a young woman came out, looked at me and said: “I know! It’s so cool!”

Instead of taking her down for her stupidity, I instead turned slowly to face her and declared “Noooooo. There’s nothing cool about this. It’s demeaning and degrading and a TESTAMENT. To just how low we’ve landed.”

She looked puzzled, gave me an awkward smile and walked away.

Link to: The latest birth control pills that are being marketed to an audience of very young women. The interesting thing about these commercials is:
The girls appear to all be aged between 16 & 22.
There are no men in the commercials.
They’re representing carefree lives; girls running on the beach, eating dinner out together, having coffee in the middle of the day, lounging around at home with magazines (heaven forbid it be a book), running out for a first job interview. All of them are smiling, laughing, unburdened and beautiful young people.

The first time I saw these commercials, I thought they were for a clothing or make-up company and was taken aback when I realized it was for birth control. N & I were seated in a movie theater the second time I saw them and she declared “Holy CHRIST! The girls look like they’re about 12!!”

I don’t care how many partners you have sex with, or how many drunken one-night stands you’ve had or in which way and for how long you’ve been taking the pill. And I most definitely don’t care if you’re male of female. Your life is your own and your responsibilities and consequence to your body are yours for the choosing. But if you wish to declare that you can have sex without any emotional connections or blowback then to you I actually say bullsh*t, because our bodies, our skin have and hold memories. More importantly, they have rights over us and so inherent in that is the fact that your physical being is not an entity that you can – no matter how hard you try – detach from the rest of you. But that’s not what this entry is about – and if you are proud of the fact that you have casual sex without emotional connection, then it is your right to sell yourself so cheaply and there is no place for that on this blog.

Right. So what’s troubling me about the above is the greater theme of casual sex lifestyle void of worry and stress, when in reality, pregnancy may in fact be the least worrisome consequence of sex. ‘Least’ when compared to the psychological, emotional, spiritual, and sexual disease consequences of sex within the particular context presented by the above two references to ‘lifestyle’.

As already mentioned, there are no men in these commercials and so no hint at relationships. If, as adults, you wish to go out and have random sexual relations, then fine – but that’s not the audience being targeted. They are anything but adult. (I remember being a 16 year old ‘adult’ very well because that was the summer all of the girls in my high-school started having sex. I also recall – crystal clearly – the traumatic consequences most of them encountered because of that choice; None of them having anything to do with a pregnancy scare.)

I don’t think it would be insane or far-fetched to say that at that age one is completely vulnerable and their identity still being formed. As equally important are their perspectives on relationships and sex (be it within or without a relationship). Here I discuss both boys and girls.

To those of you considering someone like I a throwback to the Stone Age, I say better the Stone Age than what I’ve seen as of late. And please note: anything I say re girls, I argue equally for boys. If there were a pill for boys targeted in this fashion, I would make exactly the same arguments. If boys were being represented in shop displays in this manner, I would fight against that equally.

Speaking only for myself here, I will say two things. First, to those who are great advocates of the pill, I’ve read all of the arguments and understand them, though I don’t accept or agree with most of them. I have no problem denying entry into my body chemicals of the sort found in the birth control pill. What you choose to ingest is your business, but do not try to misrepresent the context of something that is so much more than a wee little pill to what are, essentially, children.

Second, I fully expect that the man who is going to love me isn’t a man who would want me to take the risks associated with birth control. (e.g. ‘Crazy girl’, ‘no sex drive girl’, ‘my body will never again be able to produce natural lubrication girl’, etc.) Just as it would be my duty to make certain he took care of his health and avoided harmful substances, I expect him to be doing exactly the same where I was concerned. These are my standards and mine alone, and this last bit - to me - would be one of the measures of a ‘man’.

But heaven forbid we hold ourselves to any sort of a standard that falls short of complete hedonistic freedom. People should have the “freedom” to have sex with whomever and whenever, at the age they choose. Because they should learn the meaning of responsibility…even though I am not exercising any. I’m so proud.

Proud enough to head back down to the store display and stand in front of it with a big banner that reads: YAY! I’M LIBERATED! I’M FREE! AND I DON’T CARE THAT MORE THAN HALF OF THE WOMEN IN THE WORLD OVER 15 CAN’T READ OR WRITE! I CAN SHOP, YO!

I DON’T CARE THAT WOMEN PRODUCE 80% OF THE FOOD ON THE PLANET BUT RECEIVE LESS THAN 10% OF AGRICULTURAL ASSISTANCE! I CAN GET TRASHED ON TONS OF LIQUOR, BABY!

I DON’T CARE THAT WOMEN ONLY OCCUPY 2% OF SENIOR MANAGEMENT POSITIONS WORLDWIDE! I CAN SLEEP WITH THE OTHER 98%! WOO-HOO! HURRAY FOR ME WITH MY PANTIES AND jeans…around my ankles? And uhm, whose that guy behind me? And is that my number? And is that my girlfriend looking over me? Not interfering because, uhm, that wouldn’t, like, be right to tell me how to behave, would it? I mean...would it? And will you come to the sex clinic with me because I’m bleeding and I don’t know why.

But heaven forbid…heaven forbid…we ever say ‘no to anything’ because ‘yes’ has brought us so much good.



*Thank you to Woman Kind.

I Double Dare You

Due to certain circumstance, I have - in the last perhaps month - been having bouts of complete and total rage. Wicked anger the likes of which I have never before felt and hope I never feel again. When this has happened I usually look like this:



...only with a mobile to my ear while Naomi's on the other end talking me down. Talking me down. Talking me down. For that, I would like to thank her publicly as apparently she has been quoting direct from my blog to her partner Jason. A big hello to Jason also.

The first time she did this we spent nearly three hours on the phone with me in the middle of a field next to Lulu at different times crying, pounding, being pissed off, being fair, being unfair, being ridiculous, being filled with resentment, being demented, and being completely on the mark. Naomi was absolutely incredible.

When I've come off the phone with her and am calmed, I look into my mind's mirror and demand a response to: "Now list all of the mistakes and stupidities you committed to find yourself in this situation. Also, place yourself in their shoes and try to see what they see and understand their hurt. Because you are not innocent in this.", because the only way to deal with rage of this sort, I think, is to never allow it a scapegoat. To instead know that it takes several to tango and impart the reasons for that rage to all parties, including - and possibly before anyone else - yourself.

Otherwise, hate takes over our hearts and leaves no room for all of the other great emotions we're capable of feeling. We become stuck like a sad little turtle on its back, waiting for a hero to save us. Only, there are no heroes in this world outside of ourselves. If we will it, anger serves as an ugly corner in our minds and the longer we allow it to remain there, the more solidified the corners become. Then sooner, rather than later, they cease being corners and start becoming our very centres around which we build everything, against which we measure everything and the points from which we begin every movement.

So. I refuse to be Angry Girl, and luckily she left some time last week and was replaced by Happy Girl w/ Crayons. My life is too good and my heart is too big and I will not shrink it for anything. Not a thing. In fact, I'm working to make it bigger. Stronger. Nicer. Kinder. Prettier. And give it more crayons. (I understand I sound mildly retarded here, and that's ok.)

I recommend you do the same. Only the weak of spirit and heart will shy away from this. A line's been drawn and you have to decide on which side you stand; Your heart and mind are either courage filled or cowardice led. Choose.

It's far easier to project and hate (insert item / television show / individual / colour scheme) rather than to face the facts. (If someone beats you up while you're minding your own business, feel free to hate and rage and become Jodie Foster in that new movie the name of which escapes me where she's married to or about to be married to the guy with the greasy hair who everyone but me seems to find sexy and he just makes my stomach perform acrobatics.) So consider this a dare. I dare you to: Sift through your mind and find the corners - or for some, cores - where hate lives. Then face that hate, wrestle it, understand the 'why' of it rather than the 'who', look at the actions you took to make the situation turn into one of rage and then squash it. Squash it whole. Refuse it's poison into the rest of your body - most especially your heart - and search for the good instead. It will make you cry and stamp your feet and want to kick the sh*t out of someone, but you need to stop your whinging and do it. DO IT. For the sake of you and everything about you, believe Nike (slave driving wankers) and Just Do It. (Insert swoosh.)

I'm not done just yet because this dare has a second part. As soon as you have completed the first dare, I then dare you to forgive as determinedly and as wholly as you did facing that anger and that hate. Forgive the one who inflicted it, forgive your actions that facilitated the situation. Forgive completely. And then breathe in the enormous relief your heart feels when it instantly discovers the massive amounts of room you've just cleared out within it. In mine, I will soon be able to place a gigantic colouring table the size of which no one's ever seen.

Now Go. You have dares to meet.

I love you all. (Except the wanking PIGS!, Liars and Cheaters.)