Shucks!! I’m just feeling so crappy… hubby says he can’t come till Tuesday now!! That means we’ll only get 5 days together!! I’m leaving here to go to Pakistan the week after and he has to go on to work in another country. Geez! I’m just feeling so frustrated now… am I complaining? Is this against the rules? I don’t think so.. I’m not supposed to complain about someone, haha! This is just complaining about something because if I didn’t even do that then what would be the point of the blog? Hehee..

*Sigh* Can’t even laugh properly! I’m such a downer today.. but it’s just that
TUESDAY
IS
SO
DAMN
FAR!!!!!!!!!

PS. Maybe I shouldn’t be so pessimistic, there’s a chance inshaAllah that he might come by the weekend after all. So if you’re reading this, repeat after me; Allahmian please make marigold’s husband (He knows who I am) get to London by this weekend.Amen.

I’m thinking that I’m not developing any kinship with my blog here. I don’t have any feelings for it… strange I know but this is how I feel. Maybe I’m no good at this, which is really tragic because for those of you who don’t know, I’m supposed to be a writer. Haha. That’s a joke. Well I’ve written things for as long as I can remember.. I believe my first poem was entitled “The Purple Turtle” and my Mom had the tact to exclaim with wide eyes, “Oh did you write that?” and I proudly nodded. I guess it wasn’t bad for an eight-year-old.

At any rate, I’ve written numerous short stories and about a gazillion poems. Anyone who has ever crossed my path in life probably possesses a copy of one of my poems. There are many chances that you have read one of my poems without even knowing that it was me because friends of friends of friends have been known to circulate them as pass them off as their own. Haha. I was never big on any copyrights stuff. Many a guy friend impressed his girlfriend with “his” poems, courtesy of yours truly. I thought, if my crappy poetry is bringing two hearts together, why must I complicate matters with copyrights?

Anyways, I hope none of the above led you to infer that I’m a good writer by any means or that any of those poems were much impressive. They were just sappy love poems and when you’re a teenager and you think your present crush is the love of your life, then all poetry looks good and becomes the very mirror of your heart’s secret desires.

To be fair to myself, (which believe me, I find hard and unnecessary), I did get many of my poems published in a national magazine. Those of you that hail from the beloved Pakiland would know it, I guess. I’d reveal the name but seriously, the standard of that magazine has plummeted much since my poems published in it and now all manner of lowly literature gets printed in there, so I don’t want to advertise it here.

I was also the editor of my college magazine and many a time I received lofty compliments, completely unworthy of my ‘work’ from full-fledged adults. So you’d think, with a youth like that, shining with promise, I’d have culminated into some kind of celebrated writer by now. Alas, no. In fact, like I said, I’m having a difficult enough time maintaining this blog and every day I venture to the tab in settings that says “DELETE BLOG”. *Sigh*

I wish I’d had a chance to major in Creative Writing. I really do. I still aspire to, in fact. But my dad made me pick Software Engineering as my major. He said, “Science will make you better at art.” In his defense, I think he was right. He appreciated my creative streak and promised me he’d send me to Amreeka to do my masters in whatever English major I chose. Of course, as soon as a I graduated, I got married and English major out the window. I still want to do it though. Not sure if any University will let me and if it does, not sure my modest back account will. Oh and I don’t believe in loans. If I don’t have it, I don’t spend it.

It HAS been my life long dream though…. I think I might do something about it.. I don’t wanna say anything lest I have to eat my words later. Besides, I’m one of those people who absolutely have no faith in themselves. I’m the kind of person that even if the Queen of England called me and told me I was a good writer (which of course will NEVER happen and is only a very hypothetical supposition), I would think she’s sleep talking. Anyone who has EVER tried to give me a compliment will know that it’s useless. Haha.

Ok, this post is too long and probably boring, who gives a damn about some obscure blogger’s dream to be a writer? Jeez, I’m no good at this, am I?

But to be fair (again), I really miss the hubby. My creative juices aren’t flowing. Almost ever since I’ve started this blog, I’ve been in London and missing my buddy like something crazy. Please pray that he can join me London soon, inshaAllah. I’m tired of feeling so empty

You know sometimes I really feel like writing about some of the difficulties I had when I first moved to America. I want to write about coming to the realization that when you don’t have your parents to watch over you, how people treat you like crap. I want to write in detail about my journey into depression and how I pulled myself out of that deep abyss of misery but really.. I can’t bring myself to talk about any of those things. I feel superficial and shallow even thinking that I was miserable at any point.

This is because when I read some sisters’ stories on their blogs, sisters who have been soooo brave mashaAllah and endured such storms of injustice and cruelty, I look at myself and wonder why I complained at all.

When I was going through all that stuff, I used to tell myself that there are people worst off than me.. that I’m fortunate alhamduLilah despite my little battles but I really couldn’t convince myself of everything my mind claimed. It was like I was inwardly split into two; one part of me claimed that my struggles were nothing extraordinary and that the world is full of people with much greater heartache, but on the other hand I’d tell myself, so what? My pain is real too. Others’ pain doesn’t lessen MY pain and then I’d go on and submerge myself in theroes of anguished self-pity.

Now that I think about all of that, I feel so ashamed. When I read about the struggles of these valiant young women I feel so overwhelmed for them and I shrink within myself to think my troubles were anything important. It was hard to imagine that such difficulties existed but when I read about them first hand and talk to these people, it all seems so much real and so much closer to my heart. Without even knowing, they have given me so much strength and courage. If any of them is reading this, I want to thank them and tell them I pray for all of them inshaAllah.

*retrieved* I really really want to learn to be grateful and let the little things go.. I really want to be one of those serene people who seem immune to any outside disturbance. They seem to live in this tranquil world within themselves where nothing anyone says or does preturbs them. InshaAllah I really want to be one of them.. so I think this blog might be a good practice for me to learn patience and letting the little things go.. inshaAllah…

I got dragged to this wedding tonight. Don’t you just hate those weddings where you don’t know a soul and everyone smiles at you in this confused manner.. wondering who the hell you are?

Well anyways, I got stuck at the table with Miss.Zero-Style-Zero-Manners. She wore this neon blue sari with silver kaam and she carried it off more clumsily than a rooster. As if her fashion sense wasn’t sufficient reason to exude vibes of repulsion, she had manners to match it. So at first she gave me ten dirty looks cuz me and my family had the nerve to sit down at the 5 empty chairs at ‘her’ table which had been rserved for us anyway. Then she contrived to slowly manipulate all the drink bottles towards her side of the table. Okaaaay. Yes, woman, I was about to gulp down 2 gallons worth of juice. Congratulations,, you just prized it from me!

So ok.. the wedding wore on.. i was sitting there minding my own business when the dinner arrived. It was the kind which they serve on every one’s table so you don’t have to get up and eat from a buffet. So the moment the server dudes start serving the food, Miss.Neon Blue has her eyes on me… in fact her gaze switches back and forth between me and the food.. she wants to know if I’ll make a move first or will she be able to pounce without alarming me. As soon as the servers are done, she and her party (upon her bidding, I’m sure), get all panicky about the food and start pouring it in their plates quickly. Me and my party take our share from the food that’s on our side of the table and then pass it on to them.. waiting for them to do the same. It never happens.

Finally I say, “Can you pass the salad, please?” Miss. Neon Blue gives me a scathing look and keeps on eating. Okaaaay. I ask the person next to her gives Neon Blue a conferring look, “Shall I or shall i not?” WTH!! I don’t need the salad. Keep it. Wear it. Whatever.

Ok then it’s desert time. The servers bring mango and strawberry ice cream and random flavors of each in front of everyone. Miss. Neon gets mango. And guess what? She wants strawberry instead. So what does she do? Take one of both. Great. Now she looks happy. In the end I see both her plates only half eaten.

Ok so after desert, everyone has some photos taken and then Miss.Neon and her party are on our way. After they’ve been gone about 10 minutes, the couple cuts the cake and they’re serving the cake. I’m sitting with my party with a plate of cake between us when who returns from their aborted departure? Yup, you guessed it! Miss. Neon Blue and party.

Now what will she do?? The cake has been served. We (5 people) are sharing a plate among us in a very informal way.. surely she won’t ask for THIS plate? But why would I be writing this if she didn’t?? Oh yes. The woman actually extended her hand and asked us for her share!!! jeeeeeeeez!! I gather they don’t feed you where you come from, Miss. Neon Blue?? I was flabbergasted! So anyways, she got her piece and then left again. At some point the server gave us another plate of cake and we ate two pieces from that and left the rest sitting on our table.

After a few minutes when we were done saying our goodbyes, I happened to look acorss at our table and guess what I saw? That same plate of cake now sitting at her end of the table with a few more pieces missing! The same plate!! Please!!!!! But then I felt sad for her, how desperate must she be to be eating from our plate? Heheehee!!

1. What is your main Cell Phone ring tone?
its some nice samsung tone.. nice and melodious. not shrilly..

2. What is your default Avatar?
I can never know how people make avatars. Do they google images? Do they design them? Someone enlighten me…

3. What station is your car radio tuned to?
Oh never listen to radio. Only crap’s (read rap) on.

4. What is your computer desktop image?
Some random windows XP image.

5. Is there something you wear every day?
My hijab? and also this beautiful ring hubby bought me not too long ago..

6. I wish I had a tracking device on?
my bookmarks!! I’m always losing them!! I buy such pretty ones and then end up using toilet paper for a bookmark! urgh!

7. What page does your internet browser open with?
GOOGLE THE GREAT!!

8. This item never leaves my car/ purse?
Car: my sunglasses, purse: my loreal lip gloss and advils (oh how many days have thee saved?)

9. What TV show do you never miss?
Desperate Housewives (my guilty pleasure)

10. What phrase do you hear yourself repeating too often?
AlhamduLilah…

Sex by Schedule

This is a story about love cycles (not the ferris wheels that moonstruck couples ride on the boardwalk). They are rhythms that link sexual behavior to hormones.
Biologist Winnifred Cutler found that regular sex is good for you. It orchestrates a woman’s body biologically, regulating the flow of hormones that make it fertile and, in turn, increase well-being. It also props up testosterone levels in men.
Embrace once a week. Weekly intercourse—but not less—tunes the menstrual cycle to 29.5 days, optimal for fertility and general endocrine health.
Here’s the tricky part: the findings mandate monogamy. Only committed relationships allow sex so regularly. If regular sex is not possible, then it’s better to abstain altogether. That’s because intermittent sex drives hormones wild, sending estrogen to lower lows (and higher highs) than the more moderate lows of celibacy. (Lows are responsible for bone loss, depression, and even heart disease.)
Banish the thought that you can keep yourself hormonally humming with your own hand. It isn’t the orgasm but the presence of another person, preferably male, that does the trick. Men add chemicals that fire off nerve signals to the brain and alter endocrine patterns.
And by the way, riding the cycles of love is definitely an indoor sport.

Isn’t this article very interesting? It really dismisses some very popular western notions which I don’t wanna get into but I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Hahaha! I found this article here.

Yesterday I met someone who I first thought seemed like a very cultured person.. seeing as she’s a doctor born and raised in England.. belonging to a very nice family etc. but in her very proper British accent she asked me some questions which I, the desi from back ‘home’, has been taught are rude to ask especially in a first meeting..

1- How old are you?
2- How much was my wedding dress? (And when I aksed her the color of her dress, she replied very haughtily “Oh, I’m not telling anyone the color.”Riiiight. Woman, I won’t even be there on your wedding!)
3- Where did I live? America. Oh America sucks, I hate it. (Are you supposed to use the word ‘hate’?)

I often get even worst ‘first questions’ but to be fair, they come from people who don’t know better ( or atleast that’s what I tell myself to stop myself from giving them an answer worthy of their question!). Here some of the more outrageous ones that I was asked in the first meeting or a meeting with a compartive stranger.

1- When are you having a baby?
2- How come you don’t have any kids?
3- You used to be so skinny, why are you so fat now?
4- When will you have kids?
5- Do you think it’s right to come in Allah’ way (by not having kids)?
6- Why is your skin so messed up?
7- Why do you have that pimple?
8- Are you able to have babies?/ Why don’t you see a doctor?
9- Why do you wear the scarf? (with a look that says… are you insane?..this from Muslim women)
10- Are you sure you are Pakistani? Pakistanis are not ‘white’ like you..(!!!)
11- You should have children soon.. it is haraam to delay this natural process…

Go figure!

I was googling for ‘personality type’ yesterday because I really want to figure out my husband (that’s another story), and though I didn’t find what I was looking for, I did find this site that describes nine kind of personalities.

I’ve always known that I’m a little crazy and therefore a little different from the rest of the people I know but it was heartening to find this description.. it’s exactly who I am! Every single trait in here is mine.. when I made my husband read it, he said that it was as if this was written for me! I’m sure other people who know me well would testify to it also.. this was really amazing and quite frankly, a bit relieving to know that I’m ‘normal’ after all…

The Romantic – Personality Kind Four

How to Get Along with Me

• Give me plenty of compliments. They mean a lot to me. (Oh yes!)
• Be a supportive friend or partner. Help me to learn to love and value myself. (or else!)
• Respect me for my special gifts of intuition and vision. (instead of calling me crazy!)
• Though I don’t always want to be cheered up when I’m feeling melancholy, I sometimes like to have someone lighten me up a little. (even if I say, leave me alone, don’t!)
• Don’t tell me I’m too sensitive or that I’m overreacting! (yup! I’m not a drama queen and this description proves it! I just feel things more and it’s a gift!)

What I Like About Being a Four

• my ability to find meaning in life and to experience feeling at a deep level (this is why my husband always tells me, “Why can’t you just sit at home and enjoy having nothing to do like normal people?”)
• my ability to establish warm connections with people (ah… once upon a time!)
• admiring what is noble, truthful, and beautiful in life (oh yes! nothing pisses me off like deciet and treachery! If you’ve ever messed with me on those, you know this is true!)
• my creativity, intuition, and sense of humor (I won’t brag about those *humble face* alhamduLilah!)
• being unique and being seen as unique by others (aHA, I always knew it!)
• having aesthetic sensibilities (how many times have people copied my interior decorating ideas? *sigh* and why did my MIL get me to decorate her house? )
• being able to easily pick up the feelings of people around me (that’s why I feel so guilty whenever the car behing me honks !!!)

What’s Hard About Being a Four

• experiencing dark moods of emptiness and despair (*sigh* how I wish I could never have those!! You gotta feel for the hubby!)
• feelings of self-hatred and shame; believing I don’t deserve to be loved (how many times have I said to everyone who loves me?)
• feeling guilty when I disappoint people (and making myself miserable trying to keep up!)
• feeling hurt or attacked when someone misundertands me (why do I take it so personally?)
• expecting too much from myself and life (and knowing nothing I ever do is enough!
• fearing being abandoned (I’m better at this one now that I’m married to a wonderful man alhamduLilah but before… oh.. I’ve had many a sleepless night over this one!)
• obsessing over resentments (every day I pray for this to go away! Allah je, please!)
• longing for what I don’t have (ah.. no more.. no more alhamduLilah!)

Yup.. that’s me, alright!

I love my mom and she’s one of my best friends but today she said something which really hurt me. I was telling her something which my husband’s mom had said to me and it had bothered me, and for some reason my mom got a bit mad and said I shouldn’t be complaining about my MIL ‘all the time’ and to ‘everyone’…and that people probably think I’m a whiny-baby.. that I shouldn’t be so mean about the MIL and try to be nice to her and the rest of the inlaws… and that I should be grateful that I have a good husband who supports me.

How can you say those things to me, mama?

First of all, I only complain about my MIL to my mom and my friends (which doesn’t count since my mom doesn’t know about it).. second of all, I live in America all by myself.. as in I have NO family or friends there who love me or support me. I have really no life.. my husband’s visa doesn’t allow me to work or get any kind of financial aid so I can study. I’m surrounded by my mother’s family and my husband’s family, none of whom really love or knwo me. Always and forever I have to niiiiiice to them and be someone I’m not.. the lonliness kills me sometimes. I looooong for someone to talk to, to unravel myself to and there isn’t ANYONE. So what do I do? I call my mom and talk to her..is that really so bad?

Second of all, I don’t know why anyone would say that I whine too much about my MIL since all my female cousins are doing exactly that anyway and I know it’s not the best thing to do but everyone needs to vent.. no? Besides, I do NOT advertise my problems to everyone in the extended family (which is what my mom was implying).. I’m not sure why she exactly said that and then later she agreed that the other cousins are indeed always complaining ..much more so than me.. just wish she hadn’t said that. I don’t think I whine all the time, it makes me sad that mom thinks I do.. but I’ve promised myself that when I go to Pakistan this time I will really curb any temptation to vent, even to my mom! Just that it gets so difficult sometimes.. so stiflingly lonely….

Also, as wonderful as my husband is, he really does not exactly support me against his family, neither do I really expect him to. If I ever say anything to him about his mom, he really isn’t too enthusiastic about it.. no one would be, I guess. But my mom really thinks very highly of her son-in-law and I don’t want to say anything to her to dispel that image.

And mama, I don’t tell you about all the times that I’m nice to my inlaws because I don’t like flaunting my good deeds.. every time I respond to their unfairness by being tolerant, it’s such hard work that I think I’d be wasting it all if I started bragging about it to anyone. I do all that hard work for Allah and I expect my reward from Him.. I don’t wanna count my good deeds on the fingers… you can think whatever you want of your daughter but she isn’t that bad.. you’ve taught her better

I know she loves me and she wants me to be a good person… and I’m not mad at her for misunderstanding me but I AM sad about it. But mama, I promise you that I’m always trying to be a better person and perhaps you’re right and I should learn to be more patient and NEVER complain about any fairness, not even to you. I promise you I’m gonna try even harder from on to persevere quietly. Allah, please give me the strength to be stronger and not whine at all. Amen!