It's My Life

Book Request!

2009-11-03T10:46:00.001-05:00

In between submitting to agents and working on my next manuscript, I'm still chugging along on my 100 book challenge for my 109 in 2009. I've been very lucky to have had a spate of great books for a while now with each book as good as the last, but now I'm done out of books! Any books you read lately that you think are a must read? Please share, I'd love to request it from my library!

Stating the obvious

2009-10-09T10:42:00.002-04:00

I will now put on my Captain Obvious hat, and tell you I haven't been blogging much lately. In fact, not much this entire year. There are many reasons but the biggest one is when I write I tend to work on my manuscript or other writing projects. I still keep up with my book and movie reviews, and maybe at some point I'll begin updating this site more regularly. This isn't a hiatus, just saying what you already see, that the blogging isn't so regular, and probably won't be for at least the forseeable future.

Three Beautiful Things Thursday

2009-10-01T20:33:00.002-04:00

1. Watching the moon change each night before my eyes from nothing, to a sliver, until voila, we see the full round moon casting its moon shadow on our nightly walk. I can't believe I have not watched a lunar cycle in its entirety before.
2. Autumn is here! I love the crisp air and sleeping with the bedroom windows open, the hint of brown in the trees and pulling out the turtlenecks and boots in anticipation of the chilly weather to come.
3. Curb Your Enthusiasm. The HBO show. It's hilarious. Seinfeld times ten. Speaking of Seinfeld, they're reuniting on the show Sunday. Beautiful indeed.

Reflections on blessings

2009-09-27T21:05:00.004-04:00

On my last blog post, I got the following comment:

WOW! You are so lucky! I wish I was that blessed... you got a husband that supported you through law school... and supports you through the book writing... AND... you live with some guy!! Rock on Girl!

I am going to go ahead and assume this person's intent was not to be sarcastic, or in any way bad intentioned, but this anonymous comment (and of course, they're always anonymous) disturbed me and I feel I must address it.

First, I don't take for granted that K is very supportive of my dreams and I appreciate it because I could not do any of this without his support. I am blessed, agreed. But to say "I wish I was that blessed" makes me cringe. Yes, I have blessings in my life. So do all of you. I also have my share of difficulties and struggles just like all of you. Some I have discussed outright on this blog, and some due to their extremely personal nature, I discuss vaguely. My outlook is a choice. I could bemoan the horrible economy and how difficult it is right now to find a job. I could cry to you about how we're no longer a dual income household and being home not bringing in a paycheck will surely be an adjustment. I could paint the image of my current situation in a very sad and deplorable light if I wanted to, but I don't. I don't because though it does not always come easy, I try to find the good in my life. I take this bad economic time, and the fact that I am burned out from a bad job, as an opportunity to work on my writing dream, instead of whining to you about how unfair life is.

While I do feel blessed, I believe this feeling is not so much as what I have but more so the choice I have made to appreciate my blessings. There are people with more than me who are far less happy, there are people with less than me who are far more happy. It's a choice. There are days I falter, there are days that hurt more than you will know, but overall I strive to maintain a good perspective on my world. With this blog I share with you a part of my life, but by no means does it mean that everything there is to know about my life is listed here. To my commenter, I pray for the same examination of your own life and for your happiness through the ability to choose to see the blessings you already possess.

On writing and its correlation with my blogging

2009-09-22T13:27:00.003-04:00

If you read my blog when I was in law school you probably noticed I posted a whole lot more than I have been lately in the past year or so. There is a reason. You see, when in law school, while you spend a good deal of time in class, the majority of your time is spent studying, an optional (albeit highly encouraged) activity. To be fair, I studied a great deal but there is a magical thing about sitting down at the breakfast table to study: You suddenly remember the laundry piled up, the kitchen drawer, and you suddenly feel so darn creative. You just want to write and post and share your thoughts with the bloggy universe. Work kind of put a stop to that stream of consciousness blogging since I had to, you know, do my job, and when I got home between working on my novel, cooking, cleaning, reading, catching up with the guy I live with, I just didn't have the energy.

Now my job has ended and I am sitting at the breakfast table ready to work on my novel. The laundry is shaking its condescending little head, the fridge is asking me have you cleaned me this week? In short, I am the horse whisperer, except to kitchen appliances and the like. I am blocking out all those noises and I'm sitting at the kitchen table, ready to begin writing again. Ready to begin the query letter process, and get this book out of my computer and into the wide world of rejection and hopefully success. Why do I share this? Because this means ofcourse, I will be blogging a whole lot more.

Three Beautiful Things Thursday

2009-09-10T17:07:00.005-04:00

1. Today a police car approached a four-way stop sign the same time I did. He went first and I drove behind him. He turned left, and I had to turn left. Then we both turned right. I ended up following him for four miles. I am so grateful I let him go first because I would have been super paranoid had a cop been following my every turn for four miles. I'm a law abiding citizen but a cop trailing my car makes me feel like I'm on the lark with a pack of koala bears stuffed in my trunk.

2. My Arkansas Family. We went to visit K's mamus labor day weekend and I had one of the best hangouts of my life. They are hilarious and I loved the constant back and forth teasing and the genuine warmth and affection that remained ever present in every interaction. Amen, if you're reading, it was so nice to get to know you better. You're an amazing person!

3. Walking with K in the evening and taking in the scent of jasmine in the air while cold wind gently whispers through my hair and cools my skin. In a moment like that it is impossible to feel anything but peace.

Inching Closer to the dream 090909

2009-09-09T17:29:00.000-04:00

When I was president of my MSA a young man [let's call him Bobbullah] attended our board meetings with his visions for MSA. Daily Dawah tables! Large fund raising banquets with nasheed bands! Iftaar served daily on campus! Prominent speakers flying in to talk! He presented these ideas with a smug grin as he reclined in his seat with arms folded. One day I turned to him Great ideas! I said, I'm going to put you in charge of these things. His smile vanished. He looked at me confused. I know you're passionate about these ideas so please get to work and organize whoever is interested to help you. You have our approval.

We never saw Bobullah again.

My job ends today, 9-9-09, and I dreamed of this day for a good six months. Sitting in yet another meeting I daydreamed of figuring out the perfect word for the query letter. 090909 felt so far away. I can't believe its here. I can't believe the next time someone asks me what I do, I won't have a ready answer. People tell me to say I'm a writer. But its intimidating to voice this aloud.

Today I feel a bit like Bobullah. Grand schemes, beautiful dreams but now its time to do it. It's frightening to try to actualize your dreams because there are no guarantees. Hard work does not mean you'll succeed, but when I applied for dream job, only 48 hours to go in the application process I wondered if it was worth it when a friend said to me: If you try you're not guaranteed to win, but if you don't try you are guaranteed to lose. And its with this mantra in mind I go forward.

Each day I’m struck by life and how deceptive it is. Each day feels much like the last, lulling us into a false sense of security that nothing will change but before we know it nothing is the same, we just weren’t present to watch the season change. I must remind myself that each day I put off my writing for the next day is a day I won't get back. Each minute leads to the next hour, each hour on each day, and each day on the weeks and months and years to come. Each block, a building block of life, precious time I will never get back. Starting Monday, the new working life of Aisha begins. Not all of this is going to be in my hands but I will do the best with the part of it that is. Let us see what it will bring. I hope it will be good things.

Cordova- the loneliness that spans centuries

2009-09-01T15:03:00.009-04:00

The birthplace of the Islamic Empire in Spain sprung from Cordova. The streets are narrow with white washed buildings with flowers draped over the window edges. The city is so well preserved you can stand by the Jewish Quarters and look at the synagogue and feel as though any minute now Maimonides in a dark black robe will walk by, book in hand, lost in thought. It felt bittersweet to see the Grand Mosque of Cordova. I stood inside the red and white arched building and stared at the intricate calligraphic Arabic etched into the green dome and yet I could not ignore the voice in a low baritone echoing through the loud speakers as the priest stood in the center giving mass.

Cordova made me think most of Abdul-Rahman I. For it was him, lost and confused who wandered in exile to Al-Andalus and became the leader of one of the longest standing empires of all time. Despite his great successes, the mosques he built, and the power he wielded, he remained lonely for his people and nostalgic for his home of the middle east, and the date palms, and the sandy desert floor. Chancing upon a palm tree he wrote a poem:

A palm tree stands in the middle of Rusafa,
Born in the West, far from the land of palms.
I said to it: How like me you are, far away and in exile,
In long separation from family and friends.
You have sprung from soil in which you are a stranger,
And I like you, am far from home.

As a left over from the days when Muslims and Jews were exiled or forced to convert, Spanish food remains filled with pork of all variety. I've read converts were tested by being observed at how they ate the pork filled products. Did they shudder, or turn pale? If so surely they were lying about conversion and were either kicked out or killed. Due to the lack of edible food K and I wandered the streets one evening in Cordova looking for a gyro stand to eat from. At last, around 10pm, we came across one, Kebob Cafe. Looking up from the menu we were startled to see two Pakistanis behind the counter, their foreheads dripping with sweat, white aprons tied around their waists, staring back at us.

We sat down to eat and one of them, Ahmed, brought us our food. He spoke Punjabi, he told us he was from Lahore. His eyes lit up as he wiped his forehead and shared about his family back home. Do you like it here? I asked him. His expression changed and he looked down at the floor, a small smile on his lips but his eyes now unreadable. It doesn't matter if I like it or not. I have to feed my family and they need money. Working here, I can make money. I don't think too much about what I like or don't like. I hope one day I will be able to go back home.

I felt struck by the universality of Abdul-Rahman's longing. Centuries later Ahmed toils in an airless shop selling gyros to tourists. His longing is real and cuts through this European city filled with Masjids and memories of the past created by a man who too felt the cutting edge of loneliness. These men lived centuries apart in very different circumstances but both arrived in this same city due to a need to survive. I hope unlike Abdul Rahman, who died without ever seeing his home again, that one day Ahmed will be able to return home.

Three Beautiful Things Thursday

2009-08-20T18:47:00.007-04:00

1. Freshly mowed grass. Walking downtown I stopped for a moment startled by this familiar scent transporting me to my childhood of watching our father mow the lawn, the piles of cut grass ready for us to herd into piles to jump into. Florida's version of autumn leaves.
2. Walking out of a chilly office building and thawing out under the warm summer sun. Maybe its the vitamin D my skin absorbs as my chilly hands and face thaw under the sun, but this soothing feeling is one of the things I look forward to as I leave a day's work.
3. Home grown tomatoes. Two of our friends are in Australia at the moment and we check on their house from time to time and also have the pleasure of plucking fresh cherry and roma tomatoes from the vines in their backyard. The taste of home grown tomatoes makes you realize how watery and flavorless grocery store tomatoes truly are. Next summer, I too will have my own vines of this sweet fruit.

The bling versus thing gift giving dilemma

2009-08-18T12:12:00.009-04:00

When it comes to gift giving my parents are more of the give cash because then it can be used for something they want camp. As I grew up in that household, for the most part, when gifting I give cash or gift cards. No one hates cash as far as I know, and I don't have to wrack my head for the perfect gift. But the irony comes in that as much as I give out cash and gift cards, when I get gift cards I hardly ever spend them (note #52 on my 109 in 2009 is to spend a gift card, and its AUGUST and I have yet to do it!) and when I get cash its not like I use it to get my nails did or something fun and giftie. I usually just save it and buy a soda or pay for gas. Yesterday I checked the mail and there was a gift for my upcoming birthday and I got so excited. I wondered would I be this excited if it was cash?

The thing is I love giving gifts and if you've been reading long enough you know its a thing I don't take lightly. I'm getting ready to give a gift to someone near and dear to my heart. I have this great idea for a gift that would be part handmade and part professionally personalized. It would cost a good amount of money (in the $100+ range) when all is said and done. While I feel so excited to give the gift the practical side of me is considering, is the cash equivalent better?

My question is two fold (1) what do you generally prefer receiving? Bling or a thing when it comes to gifts? (2) If you were to give advice on my specific dilemma regarding this friend, what would you advise? Your advice is much appreciated!

Three Beautiful Things Thursday

2009-08-13T15:49:00.002-04:00

1. An understanding of my blessings. No matter how difficult life can feel there are still blessings to be counted. Sometimes we can look at the surface of another's life and think wow they have it all, and look at our own and find it lacking. Perhaps we don't know what lies under the stillness of the surface or perhaps they simply appreciate what they have. Its important to know that toes, fingers, eyes, ears, running water, air conditioning, are blessings. Each day I try to visualize and experience the blessings in my life. No matter how difficult our circumstances there are blessings, too many to count.

2. The Shadow of The Wind. Some of you asked me during my last 3bt what book I'd recommend to you and I must say it is this book. This is easily one of my favorite books of all time. It fits in no genre because it encompasses them all and the writing is not only fast paced and fun, the prose is stunning. After reading it from the library I bought myself a copy. It's the kind of book that you can lose yourself in entirely which is rare to come across that these days.

3. Silence. Sometimes we're moving so fast it feels like we're hamsters in the wheel, or like we're running on a treadmill and the stop key is stuck. In an era of cell phones, and ipods, and other distractions readily at hand to eliminate any silent moments, taking a few minutes to experience silence and feel how it touches the soul, can be beautiful indeed.

A day in the life

2009-08-10T00:21:00.000-04:00

Me: My birthday is less than a month away.
K: How should we celebrate?
Me: I think I'll crawl into bed and wish the day away.
K: No, we have to do something special!
Me: Like what?
K: Hmm, we could go out for dinner, or I know, I'll throw you a surprise birthday party!
Me: Yeah?
K: Yeah, surprise birthday parties are the best kind.
Me: Okay, just make sure I don’t find out about it.
K: Exactly, that's the hardest . . . Oh . . .

Thoughts on leaping

2009-08-06T01:08:00.000-04:00

When standing at the start of one's journey the destination can seem far away but moving one step at a time you realize that in a blink of an eye you've arrived. My "dream job" ends on 09/09/09 and I'm leaving. It's not due to lack of funding or a different legal opportunity. Many raise their eyes when I explain this as though I've told them I'm running off to join the circus or have renamed myself Eileen Wigwam. It might seem strange to leave a job and not replace it with another W-2 generating job. For some time I stayed quiet about my reasons, and to those I've admitted it to, I feel my cheeks flame up with embarrassment. It seems so presumptuous, so risky that sharing makes me shy, but no more. As the months dwindle to weeks which surely will trickle to mere days, I think its time to share since this blog has always been a place where I share my dreams.

If you've been reading my blog for some time you know that beyond my dream of "dream job" or teaching a deeper dream has always resided, one I've agonized over for years. I've wanted to be a writer. When I was young I would write with abandon all the time, in math class, and while television buzzed in the background. As I grew older I found out how hard it was to actually get published much less have a career as a writer so I pushed away the dreams of English majors and creative writing courses for an education degree and eventually law school. Sure, I still freelanced from time to time for newspapers, and magazines, and I have kept up this blog for going on five years now, but the writing that I dreamed of, the novel writing, I felt too intimidated to begin. Each time I considered putting pen to paper the nasty little muse that resides in all of our heads that chuckles when we dream of things that require some risk whispered really? Forget it! Not happening!

This nasty muse suffocated my writing for years until one day as I sat in my bedroom poised to pen a blog entry the idea hit me with the force of lightening on still water. I saw her. I knew what she looked like, the room she sat in, and what she felt. That day I began writing without any worries of future publication or reviews from disgruntled Amazon reviewers. I just wrote because the story needed to be told and it appeared I was entrusted to tell it.

This was three years ago and today after countless revisions and second guessing I'm done. Seasoned authors and close friends have provided insight and I've incorporated them to the best of my ability. I've begun researching agents who publish in my genre and I am now ready to write my query letters and consider sending my little one who I poured my heart into for three years [but cradled in my heart for many more] into the huge stark world of potential rejection. I'm leaving my job to query this novel and write the next one that is drafted and sitting patiently waiting for me to finish it.

Leaving my job was not an easy decision. I've held a paying job since I turned 16 years old and the prospect of not earning a paycheck fills me with second guessing hesitations, but there is a single image that fuels me on to take this year off to see if my writing can amount to anything publishable and that is the realization that I really believe I was meant to write and I was meant to pen novels. Perhaps these novels are meant to be written but never published, but I deserve it to my dream to see it through and know the answer. In some ways I'm scared to see the dream through because there is comfort in dreaming. If I fail, then what? A dream I've cultivated since I learned how to put pen to paper will shatter. It's scary to go down the road because the road may be open but may also just as easily be barricaded shut. My rationale is: it's best to know. It's time to know the answer however harsh or kind it may be.

I'm sure after a year off if this writing business does not work out, I will find a way to get back into the traditional work force and be okay. But I don't want to defer this dream. The biggest illusion life offers us is the sense that there will always be tomorrow to accomplish what we dream of today. I think I may have the ability. I certainly have the opportunity. Now its time to leap and let come what may.

Three Beautiful Things (Friday Edition)

2009-07-31T21:32:00.005-04:00

1. Burgers. Summertime is not my favorite season as hot weather is not my cup of tea (and my is it difficult to have a cup of tea in the summertime though it does not altogether dissuade me from drinking said tea). However, grilling goes a long way to make the summer pleasurable. Whether they be desi spiced burgers, or regular American ones, burgers are the funnest part of my summer.
2. LOST. The show. I could watch season 1 over and over again and find new things each time. Though the latter seasons are not my favorite, its the only show I've ever truly analyzed and gotten quite so into.
3. Packages at the door. You know who you are- thanks. As always its more than the gift its the love behind it filling my heart with gratitude for your presence in my life.

Thoughts on Harry Potter and Faith

2009-07-27T22:37:00.008-04:00

I just finished re-reading Harry Potter Book Seven. I resisted reading since I'm falling behind on my 100 book challenge and Harry Potter books aren't known for their brevity, but I couldn't resist. Re-reading books helps you see more than on the first read since you can do away with he suspense and absorb the details. The thing that touched me most on my re-read was Harry Potter's relationship with Dumbeldore.

I know I'm not the first to see what seems to be an analogy between Dumbeldore and faith and God. The series began with Harry awed and mesmerized by Dumbeldore's wisdom and kindness. Harry leaves no room to doubt him. Book Seven is different. Dumbeldore is gone. He's entrusted Harry with purpose but Harry is searching blindly for how to fulfill it. Dumbeldore could easily have sat and explained everything to him, but instead Harry is left wandering at times it seems aimlessly, his friends doubting him, even he doubting himself. Ofcourse as his frustration grows he wonders if Dumbedlore was worthy of the devotion, if he even was the wise man he thought he was. He grows angry and though he continues mechanically on the journey in his heart he now deeply doubts. As the story progresses, he makes a choice while burying his loyal house elf, that he will trust and believe in Dumbeldore despite all the doubts and fears he has. He will not stop believing. Ultimately ofcourse things come full circle, he grows as a person and the universe unfolded for him as it should.

This reminds me of ones relationship with God. As children we listen to our parents and Sunday school teachers and believe because they leave no room for doubt. Pray to God to give you a sibling! and a baby brother arrives in weeks. God loves you and watches over you, pray to him and He listens. And as a child you don't question this you simply believe and you see the proof of this belief everywhere. Then, for some of us, we grow older and we are jolted by hardship we could never have anticipated. We don't understand. We pray and beg God to listen and simply answer our prayers, to take away our hardship or give us what we want. When we don't get this we pray for understanding, but sometimes because of our own anxious hearts we cannot hear the answer and then the seeds of doubt begin to settle in and try to grow. Is he there? If so why doesn't He listen? What is my purpose? Am I just wandering alone?

As children we can believe blindly, and some of us are lucky perhaps to believe blindly as adults, but there are a few who begin questioning and just as Harry wonders, we too begin wondering. Ultimately however, it comes down to faith. Just as Harry finally decides to trust Dumbledore's plan, ultimately that is a choice we must make. In a secular society it can be easy to make a different choice than Harry, to not believe, to walk away and consider faith a weak man's crutch or a myth we still hold on to. I believe it takes a lot more strength to believe in what you cannot see. To trust in a purpose and a plan despite the road seeming dark as you hit bumps you did not anticipate and fear what else lies ahead.

Two hadith come to mind as I reflect on these thoughts.

I am as My servant thinks I am. I am with him when he makes mention of Me. If he makes mention of Me to himself, I make mention of him to Myself; and if he makes mention of Me in an assembly, I make mention of him in an assemble better than it. And if he draws near to Me an arm's length, I draw near to him a fathom's length. And if he comes to Me walking, I go to him at speed.
--
Who seeketh me findeth me. Who findeth me knoweth Me. Who knoweth Me loveth Me. Who loveth Me, him I love. Whom I love, him I slay. Whom I slay, him must I requite. Whom I requite, Myself am his requital.

I have no conclusion to these thoughts, but they struck me while I read. The nature of faith and the strength it takes to hold strong even when Dementers and Death Eaters seem to spring from unanticipated spots every step of the way.

Three Beautiful Things

2009-07-16T20:04:00.002-04:00

1. My own bed. Spain was great but the hotel beds seemed converted doors wrapped in paper with paper thin pillows to boot. Though I miss strolling the narrow winding streets of Cordova it was absolutely beautiful to fall into my warm comfortable bed after a week away.
2. Books. I'm plugging along on my 100 book challenge. I've hit 53, more than halfway! My favorite books recently: Non-fiction: The Garden of Truth, and Ornament of the World. Fiction: I'm So Happy For You and Confetti Girl. Books to add to the list? Por Favor?
3. Hope. Its humanity's life blood. Hope must always be stronger than fear.

On Sunflowers

2009-07-12T22:20:00.009-04:00

We're back from Spain and I can't wait to update on the experiences I had, both good and . . . not so great. I'm debating how to share, day by day or by experience. While I recover from jet lag and get my pictures and thoughts more organized I wanted to share the simplest but among the most profound experience I had on our trip to the south of Spain.

Sunflowers are my favorite flower and driving through Andalusia there were thousands of sunflowers blanketing the earth in yellow all around us. Except for one sunflower field. Stopping to see a forgotten castle on the side of the road I saw a sunflower field that made me catch my breath. It was a field of sunflowers like the others we passed except this one was scorched by the sun, heads downwards, leaves gone, their little bodies turning brown instead of the brilliant yellow I love. Every last sunflower dead. Except one. One sunflower in a sea of thousands, still alive and bright, its head up and facing the world despite the odds. The moment gave me chills and left me with thoughts long after I left it. Small miracles, they exist everywhere we turn. I pray for sunflower miracles in my life and yours.

Visiting Spain and Time Travel

2009-06-26T17:01:00.009-04:00

When I was sixteen years old, I sat in my English class flipping through an art book when I came across the most stunning photograph I'd ever seen. What's that? I asked Ms. Bruno. The Alhambra, she replied. Built by Muslims in Spain generations ago. I gazed at the fountain with lions, the intricate artwork decorating the ceilings and said to myself I want to see this for myself some day. Years later, June 2001 I saw a flier on campus calling teachers to teach English in Spain. I'm going, I resolved. The summer after my first year of teaching I'm there.

Of course, as life continues to teach me, what I plan and the actuality of what He has destined for me may not align. July 2001 I met K, and July 2002, the summer of Spain, I married him [and to be clear, I'd have it no other way!]. Since then, the desire to see Spain continues to beat in my heart but we plan our vacations using a pragmatic method: The world is beautiful, lets fly to where its cheapest! In this way we've been blessed to see many countries such as Turkey, France, Costa Rica, etc. but Spain to date has not shown up on the list of affordable countries. Until now.

Monday we leave for Madrid, Spain. From Madrid we drive South to Granada, Cordova, Seville, and small towns along the way. [If you've been to Spain and have advice, please share!] I'm reading Ornament of The World, a fantastic book about Medieval Spain and how beautifully Muslims, Jews, and Christians once lived together. [Thanks Baraka!]. While I'm excited I also feel pensive. To visit Spain is to visit the ghosts of the past. I read how there was a time that people were considered uncivilized if they hailed from outside the Muslim Empire. What a reversal it is now. As our trip inches closer I realize why my heart seems to pull me to Spain. I want to travel back in time. I want to close my eyes as I stand in the Grand Mosque and imagine what was. I want to stand before the Alhambra and look out at the horizon as others before me. To be in the presence of what they built, is to be in the tangible presence of the past. I think Islam is undergoing an identity crisis. The unity of Al-Andalus is crushed and we are scattered across the earth like shards of glass. Reading about the invention of Algebra, the tolerance for other faiths, and the beautiful things that were once accomplished, I can't help but feel sad for what was. I am going to Spain to time travel. I'm visiting Spain to understand who we once were.

Neda Soltan, 1982-2009

2009-06-24T13:56:00.012-04:00

The elections in Iran are ugly though I'm sure most of you already knew. Neda, 26, and unarmed died from a bullet shot by a soldier. The country where she died won't let her family speak out nor allow them to put up the banners of mourning. She was buried quickly but she won't be quickly forgotten. In Iran, posting her pictures on websites is forbidden, so today I post a tribute for those who can't. I hope her struggles, and others like her will not be in vain. To contact your congress person about the issues overseas, click here.

And it gets worse.

Overhead at the Coffee Shop

2009-06-22T18:43:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting at a coffee shop catching up on some work. There is a well dressed man in his late forties sitting at the table across from me nursing a coffee and typing away on his computer [I'll name him Jack]. A few minutes ago one of his friends walks in, orders coffee and sits across from him. [Bill].

B: So whatcha up to these days?
J: Sending out resumes and looking at paint colors to fix up the house.
B: You moving?
J: Trying to avoid getting kicked out is more like it.
B: Resumes though? I heard you got a job.
J: I did but its part-time, I need a 40 hour a week gig.
B: Whatcha doin now? Still in real estate?
J: No, at the moment I'm working in the area of culinary logistics.
B: Culinary logistics, what's that?
J: I deliver pizzas for Dominoes.
B: Ah, that MBA coming in handy eh?

I see Jack and I see the hundreds of thousands of others like him. If they stood side by side they'd spill into the parking lot, down the street, curving around the block. So many people, yet each suffering unique pain. I have felt the sting of unemployment and know how deeply it can embed into your pscyhe, taking with it your sense of identity. I shake my head and return to work but his pain has left a tinge on my own heart. I hope he will be okay. I hope we as a country will overcome this crisis.

Labeling Aisha

2009-06-18T21:53:00.004-04:00

Labels. We all use them. The honorable Judge Judy. Dr. Bob Bobullah, M.D. etc. Sometimes I am addressed as Aisha Iqbal, BA, MA, JD. Sometimes, Aisha Iqbal, Esquire. Last week I got a kick when a client sent me a letter and addressed it, Miss Aisha, Attorney at Law. Today I got some books in the mail from someone who connected with me via my blog. When I saw the address label:

Aisha Iqbal,
Perpetually Befuddled
XXX XXXX Lane
XXX, XX 54321

I had two reactions (1) I looked at it long and hard and (2) marveled at how this label was more accurate at capturing my essence than any other label I've thus far received. Me thinks I need to make some new business cards!

Ode to Powell's Book Store

2009-06-09T22:18:00.006-04:00

I've always wanted to live in Portland. Even before I visited. I loved the idea of a biker's city with coffee shops and the mountains and the ocean just around the corner. My family heard this and shook their head. You say you want to live in San Francisco. Asheville. Hawaii. OFCOURSE you want to live in Portland too. I stand by my statements. I do love SF, Asheville and Hawaii, and to live in any is a dream come true. However, Oregon is special, and visiting did not disappoint from the delicious oatmeal pancakes at Bijou Cafe (Thanks Baraka!) to the delicious coffee and lovely waterfalls. Portland is awesome just for these things alone but what takes it to the top of the charts, what makes Portland the rockstar of all cities is Powell's Book Store: the largest bookstore in the world.

If you read this blog, you know I love books. Growing up, my quiet thrill each week was going to the library and choosing the books that would be mine to treasure for the week they lived in my home. While my brothers groaned over reading assignments, I devoured their novels entirely in the time it took them to organize their desk space. My point: I love them books.

Powell's is a magical place for a bookworm. It covers a city block and the store feels much like a maze. Each section has a different color. There is the purple room, the red room, the pearl room, and so on. Used books and new books sit side by side. They even have food in the coffee shop. Seriously, what need does one have to leave save for a spouse who might want to see more of the city than just a bookstore?

I'm a writer. I know the blood, sweat and tears that go into creating a manuscript. When I stood before all those books, row after row towering over me, so many books it would surpass my lifetime to get through each of them, I felt moved. There is something powerful about being amongst so many words. Words that writers pored over. Chapters they revised. Sacrifices they made. Each book, a dream realized. Perseverance paid off.

I dream of returning to Portland on a sunny summery day much like the day I came. I dream of oatmeal pancakes, and Mio's gelato but my heart skips a beat when one day I may return to a certain store in the Pearl District by the name of Powell's. I hope when I return, my book will be amongst those on its lustruous shelves.

Five Years of Blogging!

2009-06-03T23:08:00.003-04:00

I began this blog chronicling my angst regarding law school and random thoughts that came and went. My readers consisted of my father and friend Huda. How far my blogging has come. This blog has been my place to work through my thoughts, and to connect with like minded people. I never could have known when I began that through blogging I would make friends, lose friends, discover myself, and gain confidence in my writing. There are days that I consider quitting. How long can I keep this up after all? Will I be 90 years old hunched over a computer chronicling my thoughts on this and that? I'm not sure about that but I think I will keep blogging until I no longer want to. Right now, I still want to.

I've noticed that though I have the same number of readers, the comments have grown sparse. That's okay, but today, if you are reading this I have a favor. In honor of my five year anniversary, could you please drop a note in the comments. I'd love to know who you are, how long you've been reading, and why you've stuck around, what your favorite post was... anything really. It's just nice to hear from you. You don't have to but it would sort of make my day.

Since its a five year anniversary I thought I'd share five of my favorite/most talked about posts that I've written incase you missed them:

1. The Desi Marriage Crisis
2. The Skin Thing
3. Lonely? Tazo tea will come through for you!
4. Discrimination from Within
5. On Apples

Barnes and Nobles and the etiquette of shop lifting

2009-05-22T16:27:00.003-04:00

As I take out my credit card to pay the cashier at Barnes & Noble I see a stocky man with a book bag walking at a brisk pace out the door. The detectors go off shrieking. An Indian woman who works there breaks into a run Sir Sir! Please come back! The man keeps walking at a brisk pace without looking behind.

The cashier checking me out sighs as she slides my credit card through and shakes her head at the cashier next to her. I don't know why Indira ran after him. It's not worth it, he'll be back again.

I raise my eyebrows, again? I ask.

The other cashier nods and rolls her eyes, Yeah he comes here all the time and stuffs his book bag with books and runs out.

I sign my receipt and stare at her, and you don't stop him?

Nope, she said, We have strict rules on stopping shoplifters and if he puts in his book bag there's not much we can do.

As I walk out with my purchased items, I can't help but wonder a few things:
a) Does the book thief not know of libraries?
b) If he's a regular thief, can't someone trail him to make sure he doesn't steal?
c) Why didn't I just stuff my books in my purse and walk out.

Ha, just kidding about (c) but... there's something seriously wrong with what I saw.

Three Beautiful Things

2009-05-15T00:01:00.001-04:00

Writing. Whether I'm a good writer or simply mediocre, writing is my escape. Writing helps me make sense of the world and fine tune my perspective. Writing allows me to express myself more honestly and fully than any other form of expression. Through my words I can take a blank page and create a world that never existed. Through my words I can illustrate feelings too intense to articulate. Writing is my salvation.

My Ipod. Before buying the Ipod, each minute of running felt tortured. Now, I can listen to the Killers albums, pumped up and running, sweat dripping down my chin, and barely realize thirty minutes passed. I love running to the rhythm, lost in song, my body doing the work, but my mind in another place entirely.

My Husband. The ocean may swirl like a tempest around me, but as long as he is my lighthouse, I know I will find safe harbor. [Alhamdullilah]