I freak myself out too

Hmmm. Yes, hello.
Right now, I'm letting out an endless stream of sighs and exasperations, and, "oh mans."
Oh man.
I'm such an idiot. I'm idiot cubed, quadrupled, quintentified, sisentified, ochentified.
Do you understand?
I embarrassed myself so thoroughly today that I truly wish I could turn back time, and tweak myself so that I didn't look like such a dumbutt this afternoon. The urge in me to use profane language right now is so strong that I'm resorting to using words like dumbutt. Yes, it hurts.
I would tell you what happened. But I do not wish to create a permanent space for this memory on the internet. It's incessance (is that a word) in my brain is enough to torture me.
Peace now,
Rhino (with hands over rhino face)

Aqfa

My little brother left for college yesterday. Well, little is the wrong word to use, I guess, seeing as he's much bigger than me - I mean younger. Shaheer and I have a little less than two years between us, and I never let him forget it; however, I must say I was quite sad when he said, So long suckaas. Actually he didn't say that - he gave me a hug, which is, no doubt, a first. I can't remember Shaheer ever giving me a hug. Of course, it was a quick, "I'm too tough for these sentiments" kind of hug, but hey, a hug is a hug. He caught me off guard, as I was holding the elevator open for him, otherwise I might have said, Hold your horses, partner, Api ain't done yet. But all I was able to mention was, I'll beat you up later, punk.
My feelings also caught me off guard; considering that he's attending Stony Brook, which is only about two hours away, and that he'd be able to visit often, I didn't expect to get the weepies, but I seriously haven't gotten rid of this weird lonely feeling since that lotaa face left.
I must say, Shaheer and I don't have some psychic connection like some siblings have. We usually can't read each other's minds or finish each other's sentences. In fact, it wouldn't be far from the truth to say that the two of us are opposites. He's quiet; I'm loud. He's reasonable; I'm stubborn (which is a good thing). He's lazy; I'm less lazy. He is, as my parents love to point out, patient, and I AM NOT (God help me).
Regardless (one of his favorite words to use) of these facts, Shaheer and I could have some really interesting conversations, which over the past almost 21 years of living together, have made us, I think a good brother and sister. When I was seven and he was five, we'd both put our heads underneath our pillows at night and tell each other scary stories (me telling most of the stories, and him usually peeing his pants). Actually, since I know Shaheer is not going to read this, I'll disclose the fact that Shaheer was indeed a bedwetter until the old age of nine (mention this not in front of the boy, if you ever get a chance to meet him). We would also have namaaz races (astaghfirullah) and then run and get the best spot in front of the television to watch Shining Time Station on PBS (our favorite show). Lately, we've discussed many things including politics, in which he usually shows his sense of practicality, and I become a big wad of emotions, as well as pop culture and its need for reform (yeah, I know right?).
My point is that though I shout at the loser lotaa mia and call him many endearing terms like the ones just mentioned, I love him because he is those things and so much more.
He is and always will be Sheri Buddu Sahib.

Veneers

Yes, my blog has undergone an extreme makeover. I guess it's not so extreme when you think about it, because the blogs are still the same.
But my blog was begging for a change, saying nobody was attracted to it anymore - I tried to make it understand that change comes from the inside, but it said, you just wait and watch - I'll show you change. So it up and transformed itself. I must say, it doesn't look so bad. But on closer inspection, my blog is the same old funky thing.
So much for I'll show you.

To Peter

"I'm fascinated by everything." - Peter Jennings

There is no life without death. It's so easy to say, to write, to understand - well at least superficially. But then we're reminded.
There is life.
There is death.

Peter Jennings was a good guy. Yes, you assume correctly - it's not like I knew the man personally, but from what I saw of him on television, on World News Tonight, and the occasional interviews that he appeared in was that Peter was real. He seemed unfiltered. He didn't report with an agenda, and if he did, his agenda was to give it straight.
I never knew he hadn't finished high school, let alone graduated from college. I don't think many who were unaware would have noticed. But then you realize that the things that made him stand out aren't learned at a university - they're just real ethics that certain people instinctively have the drive to reveal. There have been so many times when I have banged my head over and complained about the American media - their inability to show more than one side drove me up the wall. But Peter was one of the few that showed a glimpse of hope - a sign that not all majorly consumed media has gone down the toilet. Yes, of course, if one is truly interested in a balanced view of the world, there is BBC, but how much of America actually watches or listens to it? I'm not saying ABC News was perfect, but Jennings provided news coverage that was close to, yes I must say it, "fair and balanced." Since he stopped appearing after his cancer diagnosis, I already have felt a change in ABC's World News broadcast. The same questions and issues aren't addressed, and the same topics that Peter covered are taken from a more conventional US Network News angle. I might as well watch what's his face, Brian Williams.
Peter said he did not take the journalism stance of making Americans feel protected and safe every night, but instead, he wished to give the public history, whether it uplifted or hurt. The thing that he maybe didn't realize is that he was a comfort to so many people by doing just what he did. He will be missed by so many different kinds of people because of this - he was true.

Thanks Peter.

Where in the world is...no, not Carmen Sandiego.

"What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say." - Ralph Waldo Emerson .............. So since my computer is still being a little screwy and won't let me press Enter, so that I can actually start a new paragraph, my blog is gonna look a little funny, a little stream of conscioussy, which actually it is. Because I haven't really thought out what I'm going to say. There's the usual salutations, long time no see, but what else do I have to say? Waldo can't hear me anyway. He sees the way I am, and is like, Foo. Foo on you. I understand. Sometimes I'm really not a big fan of me. Why can't I just do instead of say? I say so much; we all say so much. Our tongues go blah blah blah all day. This little piece of flesh that just can't help itself. In more ways than one. I mean, the things we do for our cravings. I shouldn't get started on that though...........uggh I really want to start a new paragraph. I'm screaming right now. See there I go again. I tell my little brothers all the time they need to chill, relax, learn to be patient. Have I ever tackled the sucker myself? You guess right. I'm pathetic. Things like a slightly sensitive and withdrawn keyboard get on my nerves to no end. I throw my hands up in the air, for what? God, why are you making my keyboard sucky right now? Right. He surely sympathizes when there are millions of people without food and shelter who are taking it all in stride. Occasionally my mother asserts that my brothers and I, especially me, should be sent off to boot camp to get rid of our airs. Usually, I have some retort in my head, thinking, well actually, Ma, if you compared me to other people my age here, I'm not so bad. The truth is, we all need a huge epiphany to occur. A bright light to shine into our eyes. It's okay if we squint, as long as we get the real picture. Oh, real picture, oh truth, why are you so fleeting? Fleeting! I'm not fleeting, cries out Truth. You just don't really want to see me. MIRA. LA VERDAD.

Boo yah

So, it's been a long time. No, I haven't had too much to do. It's this stupid clock. Stupid time, stupid stupidness that is slipping, melting, running down my hands into a popsicle sticky mess. Into a migraine.
More than a migraine.

So.
I love saying so and pausing.
So?
Whatcha gonna do about it?

So there was this conference this weekend that just ended today, and I have to say, it was pretty cool. There's something about finding people who are like you. Well, they may not be just like you, in thought and opinion, but they look like you. Which is what counts, right? No, but what I'm trying to say is that when you're used to being different, being the only one who dresses a certain way, who gets a couple of stares, it feels really good to get some smiles from people who know, who relate.
It's COMMUNITY.
My 9th grade English teacher was big on this concept; she'd spend whole periods on how we should care if someone else isn't doing well in class, or if a peer is hurting, socially, emotionally. She even wrote a whole letter to the 9th grade class about her personal feelings on the matter, which was a little intriguing. Of course, back then I couldn't care less. I guess it was just being a student, being punky, because you're supposed to be a teenager in high school, and huh, what the hell do teachers know?
But yes, I've had a change of heart.
I've come around to understand and believe that community is so utterly important to humans. Community gives you light, makes you strong.
Community, in part, gave me the courage to take a step. It isn't a permanent step, but it was a step nonetheless.
So I decided to give the niqab a try. It first started because a friend of mine was like, let's do it for the conference!! In the beginning, I was like, ehh, I don't know. The whole week, I refused to think about it, and the morning of, I was prepared to be niqab-less. Still, I wore one of my mother's hijabs which has a niqab attached, and was like, hmm, well if I feel like it, I'll use it. Right when I got through the doors, I saw two girls with their faces covered, and I was like, heyyy, hallelujah, praise da Lord, alhamdulillah! Why not?
I will not lie, and say that wearing niqab is the most comfortable thing in the world. But as I continued to wear it, WALLAHI, it seriously began feeling like the most natural thing ever known to mankind.

Oh my goodness, I need to go do my homework. I will finish writing some other time.
Pizza.
Rhino-thinking-of-wearing-niqab

Ya Rahman Ya Raheem

How did you get away?
You were the pet falcon of an old woman.
Did you hear the falcon-drum?
You were a drunken songbird put in with owls.
Did you smell the odor of a garden?
You got tired of sour fermenting
and left the tavern.

You went like an arrow to the target
from the bow of time and place.
The man who stays at the cemetery pointed the way,
but you didn't go.
You became light and gave up wanting to be famous.
You don't worry about what you're going to eat,
so why buy an engraved belt?

I've heard of living at the center, but what about
leaving the center of the center?
Flying toward thankfulness, you become
the rare bird with one wing made of fear,
and one of hope. In autumn,
a rose crawling along the ground in the cold wind.
Rain on the roof runs down and out by the spout as fast as it can.

Talking is pain. Lie down and rest,
now that you've found a friend to be with.

- Rumi