So much violence...

It's 10:24 pm.

I should be working on my studies, reading my books, or working on my class problems. But I can't.

For two reasons.

There's been tension between my mom and myself -- but it's one sided. It's usually her just saying the usual mean things all Pakistani mothers say --- but it's been bothering me lately. The random cuss words thrown by Pakistani women I am used to --- it's a way of life whenever they're angry -- and it doesn't matter if you're a daughter or son -- no one is spared from these.

But I'm sensitive. I know I am. So when she said "Learn the ways of this house or get out" I was taken back. How am I to respond? I just came home... 3 hours ago from school - and had done absolutely nothing.

Or maybe I'm just being extra sensitive because of what happened today. Today, there were bombings during the Boston Marathon. Horrible, senseless bombings. It really pierces my heart when I hear that innocent people -- such as the eight year old -- were killed because of something like this.

In July 2012, we learned that movie theaters are no longer safe
In August 2012,  we learned that places of worship are no longer safe
In December 2012, we learned that elementary schools are no longer safe

Today, we learn that there is no such thing as safety.

The Boston Marathon bombs happened during the day, in the public square - a normal street.

Maybe I'm just sensitive -- but I think there's no reason to wait for the end of the world. The senseless, ruthless violence just means... it's already here.

Caramel

(Don't feel bad about the mom comment. I love my mother very much, it's just tough love.... is tough).

It's been 3 months...

Hi online diary --- journal --- what have you,

It's been three months.

I haven't written because I've been overwhelmed. There were days when I wanted to write, but could never make time. There's a saying that goes: "if you find value in something, you will find time for it." That is not true. There are things called responsibilities and burdens and sleep, and even if you find value in something, you know you have to put it on the backseat... for now at least.

To sum up January - March: it's been rough, testing, overwhelming, but a hint of sweet in the last week.

The day before New Years (December 30, 2012), I had the unfortunate luck to catch the stomach flu. For anyone who has had this, it is physically draining. For the next 8-10 days, I was completely out of it. The first days were marked by numerous vomiting (6-7 times a day) -- and so no food was in my body. Just from that experience alone, I lost 10 pounds.

Then, as I was healing, we found out my dad lost his job. This was a huge shocker. He came home, dejected and upset. Losing a job is tough. It's even worse when you're a man -- it hits your ethos a ton. But --- when you're also a provider; a husband and a father -- it's embarrassing. We tried to console him and tell him that things like this happen. It's normal, that he'll find another job. That the economy is recovering, and things will pick up.

But we know the truth. This economy isn't getting better that quickly. And it's not the loss of income that is going to be tough - it's the lack of benefits - the loss of health insurance. For someone who just came out of the stomach flu, this was a scary thing to think about. Both my parents take about 3-4 medications each, and I'm no Hercules when it comes to strength. We rely on the pharmaceutical and health care industry. And those industries are ridiculously expensive. So, I've been trying to tie up loose ends with all of that... my dad is still looking for a job, and I can sense that he's getting annoyed staying at home.

I turned a year older during this period, but I didn't care. What's the use of celebrating another year that passes by. Maybe it's because of these difficult times, that I've become somewhat depressing and pessimistic. Or maybe I'm just becoming realistic.

Or maybe it's the fact that one of my classmates passed. The amount of ache and pain I felt --- not enough to put into words...

Whatever the case, life is rough. Much more has gone on, and my heart hates to spill all at once. Maybe another day.

Caramel

Number 3 from "Why I haven't Been Posting..."

Number 3 from "Why I haven't Been Posting..."

3) I've been thinking tons. And it's not that healthy type of thinking, it's that thinking that can make a  person go mad, frankly. I'll explain more in another heading.

This is a complex post, because I don't even know the purpose behind it. I think I just want a venue to discuss my thoughts -- and screen/keyboard combo does more justice than a pen/journal for me.

I had trouble sleeping for the past few nights. Normally, I don't stay awake past midnight--- but these days, I couldn't sleep until much, much later. 

The reason? Abstract thoughts.

Thoughts about hate crimes and the CT shooting. More specifically, thoughts about the fragility of life. Thoughts that give religion meaning and significance. Thoughts that make philosophy an area of study. Thoughts that can make a man (or woman) mad.

I thought about the meaning of life. And death. About what happens after. And way after. I thought about my parents. How much longer they had. And how I would feel and handle my emotions. I wondered if I could even take it.

I then pondered about existence. Why are we here anyway? Why, even 100 years, at most is such a short span of life. That -- if I live to a 100 -- I'm already ~20% there. Do you know how depressing this thinking is? To put life in this perspective? I've lived at least 20% of my life.  I mean... if I live until I'm 60, that's even worse, I'm 33% done already. How about at age 40? Well, then I only have 50% left.

Suddenly, I became less selfish. Like I mentioned, I've never experienced the death of a close family member or friend. And I don't want to. I think I rather pass first before my parents because I can't bear to live without them. I may get into arguments with them daily and may dislike their strictness and their policies, but they are my parents --- and they have sacrificed tons of their own happiness to my upbringing. But for them to be absent from my life -- I can't even begin to explain how I flooded my bed with tears when I thought about that.

I just prayed. Prayed that everything was true. That there is a heaven. That pious, believing men and women go there. That good people go there. That the kids killed in Connecticut go there. That the innocents who are dying in Palestine, Pakistan, Syria, Darfur, and anywhere where genocide takes place, go there.That my parents and siblings and nephews and nieces go there. That I go there.

And then I thought about heaven. Would we get bored if life was so perfect? Would we not care? Would we know about how our life was on Earth?

Am I the only person that thinks like this? Surely, there must be many who question existence and everything. There has to be someone who once on this trail of thoughts, can't stop. It's a scary trail. I know there is no such thing as immortality -- but I'm just scared about the future, and of loss, specifically.

Ever since these thoughts surfaced, I made sure to kiss my parents extra hard on the forehead every night.

I like religion in this sense. It keeps these uncertainties at bay most of the time (when you're not on this trail of thinking).

I wonder though... what do Atheists think?  

Why I haven't been posting...

There have been a few reasons that delayed my writing a post...

1) I must admit, I'm a study freak. I had finals going on -- and I am a hard worker. I put all on hold to just read and write for class.

2) The holidays. I don't celebrate Christmas, but I do wish those who do a merry one. (So, if you celebrate Christmas, I wish you had a great one!!) I believe that there is no sin in wishing others a happy holiday although some in my religion do disagree even with that. To me, it's simple. You don't have to believe in something to wish someone a happy holiday. Take our own holiday for example. When a non-Muslim friend says "Eid Mubarak" or "Ramadan Kareem" to me -- I don't expect them to magically convert because of this. No, rather I'm happy that a friend has taken the time out to learn the greeting, anyways.You need to learn about the other holiday before wishing someone, and well -- if everyone learned about the others holiday -- doesn't that make for a connected world??

To the Muslims who strictly believe even wishing is a sin, I offer them this perspective from an Imam:

"The European Fatwa Council; made up of 20 of the worlds greatest Muslim Jurists, stated that it is permissible to greet people on these days (exchange gifts even) as long as it does not involve approving any creedal differences between us, or open evil (drinking and so on). In other words, a simple happy holidays is not a sin or going to take that person out of Islam. It is reported with authentic chains that Ali (ra) celebrated the Persian New Year, even eating ice cream with Imam Abu Hanifa's relative. Many of the fatwa quoted by sincere folks are rooted in an age of empire and war (the crusades) or a social reality that does not fit ours in the West. Most importantly, a person should ask those who use words like "haram" "kufur" "Halal" and "encouraged" about their religious training. Yelling and over blown emotionalism does not equal training and scholarship. Allah knows best" - Imam Suhaib Webb, posted on his Facebook page on December 25, 2012

I thought this was beautifully and simply put. And I agree wholeheartedly with it. I hadn't seen the post myself, but a friend referred me to this Imam's facebook page thinking that I would love this post. And I did. 

3) I've been thinking tons. And it's not that healthy type of thinking, it's that thinking that can make a  person go mad, frankly. I'll explain more in another heading.

4) I've lost faith in society and so don't even know if this blog is worth it. What is the point of attempting to clear up misconceptions and showcase an American Muslim to the world, if so much bad exists? Ever since the CT shooting and now this hate-crime (NYT article) -- I find myself wondering how exactly the world could be so bad.



caramel

Guns or Mental Illness?

 I thought the problem was guns.

After the CT shooting, I thought that --- okay --- this is the last straw. Why are we catering to the NRA? Why don't we realize that the 2nd amendment doesn't hold the same water it used to?

We no longer have to fear the same types of challenges/threats as depicted in Red River or The Searchers (I'm a John Wayne fan). Then, it was understandable to bear arms -- as your house was under constant danger especially in new territories. But what are the reasons for bearing arms today? Hunting I can understand -- but isn't there a specific gun for hunting? Why are pistols and such wanted by private citizens? What exactly is the purpose of a gun except to obliterate a said target?

Maybe it's because I'm a city girl. Maybe that's the reason I don't understand the fascination with the firearm. I think it's stupid. And dangerous. I mean -- God forbid -- what if someone in your house, like a child, accesses the firearm -- or what if someone who had been heavily drinking fired it accidentally? There are so many what-ifs and honestly, I wonder if it's really worth it at the end of the day. To the parents who lost a child due to a gun accident -- would they have wished they could go back in time to never have the gun in the first place? I'm sure they would have.

Maybe the problem is guns.

But maybe it's the lack of awareness around mental illness as well.

I encourage everyone to read this piece by Liza Long: "I Am Adam Lanza's Mother"

It's powerful. But debate-worthy.

And it makes you think - what's to blame?


---------------------
RIP Newtown, CT




caramel

A Prayer for Newtown, CT

Yesterday 11 am
------------------

I was studying for my final exam when my iPad buzzed with horrible news. There was a school shooting in the town of Newtown, Connecticut. Suddenly I was distracted from the books as I tried to piece together what was happening/why it was happening. Updates were scarce and all the news sites were identical. The only casualty being reported then was one child, and I prayed that the child would stay alive and that the casualty would end with that.

My exam was in a couple of hours and  I am someone who is obsessed with scoring high. It's quite disgusting, actually. I cringe at the sight of a B -- and I admit it's become unhealthy to try and become "perfect" - even if I know such a state doesn't exist.

Still, surrounded by studious students in a library -- my heart couldn't take it. I wanted to study, but I couldn't. I had to keep refreshing, praying, hoping for good news.

I have to admit something though. I also prayed for something else -- that the shooter wasn't Muslim. Every time a disaster strikes, every time violence is plastered on the news -- the inner voice inside me says, "please, don't be a 'Muslim'". In America, our reputation has already been scarred deeply and frankly, I pray that no extremist or lunatic contributed to this bad reputation. I hate being stared at, looked at with hate -- and so each time something like this happens -- I hope that it isn't a "Muslim" - (in quotes because I don't believe extremists are Muslims).

But that doesn't lessen the pain, obviously. It's just -- when a group you belong to is often marginalized -- you begin to think like this.

Yesterday 1 pm
------------------

By now, I'm struggling to even read a line in the textbook. It's impossible as the number of casualties increases. And by casualties I mean -- murdered, not wounded. Thoughts are going through my mind: "Why would someone target little kids -- 5 year olds?". The earlier news reports said that the shooter was a 24 year old father of a student there (which turned out to be false) and a later news report said that the shooter's mom was a teacher at the school (also turned out to be false). So, I thought -- maybe this was a crazy father or crazy son (the latter still true).

When the number hit 27 dead, I couldn't help it. I lost it. I cried. Loudly. I wanted to scream. I had no relation to these kids, no. And I wasn't a parent. But I was an aunt. And I know how it feels to love a child so deeply and unconditionally -- and I couldn't even begin to think about how these parents felt.

20 kids. 20 kids without a Christmas -- I don't celebrate Christmas but I love the holiday season -- I love seeing everyone in a positive mood -- I love watching Christmas movies, etc. I wondered about the pain the parents must feel going back to their homes and realizing that the presents in the closet would have to be returned, and that there would be no more "tucking in".

20 kids - stripped of a future, of memories.

The story made me appreciate my teachers and my family even more. Vicki Soto, a teacher that was killed, stood in the line of fire to protect her students and others tried to hide their students to keep them safe. The principal and school psychologist tried to stop the shooter. Their bravery at this moment parallels and exceeds that of a soldier.

It also made me realize that any breath could be my last.

And it broke my heart -- and it made me think of a Quranic verse that my brother had told me days earlier (this verse is in reference to the signs of the Day of Judgment):

"People will see such days where the killer will not know why he kills, nor the innocent why he is slain." -Prophet Muhammad (PBUH)

I don't usually quote Quranic verses as I'm not well versed in them. But immediately, this had an effect on me. These kids went to school - a place that is supposed to be safe -- and were murdered for absolutely no reason. And do we really know why the shooter took the lives of all these kids? If he hated his mother -- why were the 6 and 7 year olds also put in the line of fire?

Were the Mayans then correct about next week? Not that the world is ending, but that humanity surely is...

RIP to all the children and adults. God Bless:

R.I.P. Charlotte Bacon, age 6

R.I.P. Daniel Barden, age 7

R.I.P. Rachel Davino, age 29

R.I.P. Olivia Engel, age 6

R.I.P. Josephine Gay, age 7

R.I.P. Ana M Marquez-Greene, age 6

R.I.P. Dylan Hockley, age 6

R.I.P. Dawn Hocksprung, age 47

R.I.P. Madeleine F Hsu, age 6

R.I.P. Catherine V Hubbard

R.I.P. Chase Kowalski

R.I.P. Jesse Lewis, age 6

R.I.P. James Mattioli, age 6

R.I.P. Grace McDonnell, age 7

R.I.P. Anne Marie Murphy, age 52

R.I.P. Emilie Parker, age 6

R.I.P. Jack Pinto, age 6

R.I.P. Noah Pozner, age 6

R.I.P. Caroline Previdi, age 6

R.I.P. Jessica Rekos, age 6

R.I.P. Avielle Richman, age 6

R.I.P. Lauren Rousseau, age 30

R.I.P. Mary Sherlach, age 56

R.I.P. Victoria Soto, age 27

R.I.P. Benjamin Wheeler, age 6

R.I.P. Allison N Wyatt,  age 6

-Caramel

Before I get started..

As I said before, I'm in my twenties - which means I still live with my parents. (Most American Muslims do at this age and live with their parents until marriage)

I've never known loss.
I lost an uncle when I was ten -- and he was loved within the family. But it never hit me, because I never got to know him.
I lost three of my grandparents even before I was born.

But I hear about loss everyday...
I started crying in class when I heard about Syria's blackout - scared about what might be happening.
I was frightened when fighting intensified in Gaza this past month -- unable to focus on anything else.
I couldn't sleep when the pictures of Palestinian children surfaced over the Internet: dead, hurt, scared.

And, a couple of days ago, a close friend from grade school lost her father. He wasn't sick, and the last time I had a conversation with her was back in middle school. I don't know what to say, how to say it, if I should call/see her in person/what have you. I still haven't given her a call because I simply don't know how to react and if my words will even provide solace to her. And this was a turning point.

It is this fear of losing someone close that brings someone closer to their religion. The sudden loss of my friend's father reminded me about how delicate life is. We hear about loss on the news, feel bad, but go on with our lives.

I've pledged to give my parents a goodnight and goodmorning kiss everyday. And I've also pledged to stop being an annoying brat. Despite the relationship anyone has with their parents -- I think it's important to remember that at least they are still here. At least they can yell at you. I've never been so thankful to hear my mother scream since.

Just a reminder to myself to appreciate those closest to you -- and to show love always.

Caramel