Salaam,
Me apaixonei?
Talvez, pode ser
Enloqueci?
Não sei, nunca vi
Preciso sair
Depois que eu descobri
Que há você
Nunca mais existi
I fell in love?
Maybe, it could be
I went crazy?
I don't know, I've never been there
I need to get out
After I discovered
That there is you
I never existed again.
I told the story of this song before. How I heard this song on my "Haiti" playlist on Pandora in 2008, how I excitedly ordered a CD imported from Brasil with the song on it since I couldn't download it on the internet, how I read the insert in the CD to find a translation of the song, and how I realized that the song put into words what I could not.
I fell in love with a man and then I never existed again.
Alas, the very thing I prayed to God wouldn't happened had happened. I fell in love with a man who would not be mine. Why? Why would God allow it?
Over 11 years later, I still don't know. But this song reminds me of that place.
No song that exists on earth speaks to me more than this one. No artist has more quickly become my favorite than Djavan for the fact that he wrote this song. Talk about killing me softly.
There was a time where I couldn't complete a task without thinking about how this man would be proud of me, as he said he was. Proud of how smart I was, amazed at how smart I was. "I amazed him," he told me once. I had never been admired so brightly and so earnestly by a man. It had to be love.
I was so convinced and he was so emblazoned into my person for years that the best way that I could put it is that I wasn't myself anymore. The me that I was before had stopped existing. I became other. And I never existed again.
I was never the same. I have not existed again. He's since married the woman I knew he would end up with. Years after I was over him, his wife came to me in a dream, and described what he was like at their wedding.
I did not know until days later that I dreamed of her on the day they married. I would later see a Facebook post in which she described him exactly as she described him to me in my dream--serious in the face of his upcoming responsibility as a married man.
It's been 11 years since I first fell for him, and I've moved on. We are at two opposite sides of the country living separate and completely full lives, but I had to dream about him to congratulate him on his son. I hadn't dreamed of him in years, but I guess that was an occasion.
In every manifestation of his life, I can now see that he was meant for her, and she was meant for him. I don't know why I ever came into the picture and interrupted destiny. And I don't mean that to be self-deprecating, because the whole thing sure as hell interrupted my life.
The piece in the anthology only tells part of the story. I was too shy to write about the raw obsession and the pain of disillusionment when I found out he had no idea that I liked him, let alone that I stopped existing because of him.
The best that I can say did come out of the whole experience in the manuscript that I'm gearing up to edit.
I can't believe it's been 11 years. We were two different people then. Now, we're doctors. He has a family, and I'm at the precipice of marrying, at least I hope. When we met, we had no idea where we'd be, what we'd be able to do. We were just two nerdy kids in an organic chemistry class.
He didn't know a black girl could be so smart. I didn't know that the annoying, boisterous kid who I dreaded seeing in class every week would change my life.
The me before I met him never existed again. I wanted that someone who felt so important in my life to remain in my life, but only God knows.
Showing posts with label MPB. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MPB. Show all posts
Saturday, September 5, 2015
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
And if God doesn't provide?
Salaam,
This title is an allusion to yet another song, this one in Portuguese. It is the pop version of a type of samba called partido alto by Chico Buarque, so titled.
Partido alto is witty, provocative and involves plays on words, as I understand. The song "Partido Alto" taps into this, and its chorus is an elaborate word play that, upon hearing it, I found brazen but could not help singing it.
The actual lyrics are as follows:
Diz que Deus dará,
Não vou duvidar,ô nega
E se Deus não dá,
Como é que vai ficar, ô nega?
Diz que deu, diz que dá,
E se Deus negar, ô nega
Eu vou me indignar e chega,
Deus dará, Deus dará
Works a lot better than the English translation; I'm not even sure how you would make this as fun in English, actually (a small amount of poetic license taken in the translation here):
They say that God will provide
I'm not going to doubt that, my dear
And if God doesn't give
How are we going to end up, my dear?
They say he gave, they say he gives
And if God denies us, my dear,
I'll become outraged and that's it
God will give, God will give
First of all, I've always found it hilarious that variations on the word "black" are used as a term of endearment in Latin America. Light skin children were called "negrito/a" when I was in the DR, and "nega" in Brazil is a term of endearment for one's wife, girlfriend or close female friend, regardless of race, but very commonly used among white people, and it definitely comes from "negra." So, essentially, it'd be like everyone in America said "nigga" as a term of endearment...or at least in a similar way that black people do.
Talk about how language shapes one's view of the world!
But I share that lyric to share actually something quite serious, at least for me. I open it with a jovial note. Tell me, how would a Muslim interpret this lyric? Would a Muslim even let these lyrics cross their lips?
On my playlist on my iPod, I skip over (but interestingly have not yet deleted) the song that ends with "A vezes tento creer mas não consigo. E todo um total insensatez..." Which translates, "Sometimes I try to believe, but I'm not able to. It's all complete nonsense."
Muslims, am I right? We are, by definition, believers. Not only are we believers, but we are submitters. I cannot let such words of disbelief pass into my psyche, not in the form of song, of verse, of speech, of thought, of image, nothing. I reject those lyrics. This is why some people consider music haram. Where do you draw the line between beautiful instrumentation and harmless lyrics to the very harmful. It will sneak up on you. And see how I've memorized that Portuguese lyric against my will! It is in my mind and undermining my faith and I would have been better off never having heard that lyric, astaghfirullah...
...or would I be?
I admit, I do intend to remove that song from my iPod, but I rarely listen to my iPod anymore and haven't changed songs on it for the last 3 years or so. I am a little tongue-in-cheek up there but I'm serious about taking care about the forms of media I ingest and how it can have an impact on our person. Disbelief is not my modus operandi, so I don't consume it.
However, songs like "Partido Alto" walk that line of inappropriateness. If I were my former self, actually, I would stop listening to this song, too, and try to purge it from my memory. To imply, ever, that God doesn't provide? Haram in the making, right there.
The song's protagonist is a person living in poverty, lamenting their position and poking fun at themselves. Their faith is fickle at best. God will provide...but what if He doesn't? What are we going to do? Well, if he doesn't provide, I'm going to be pissed...
But I still listen to this song. Why?
Because God has provided amply for me, more than I ever ask for and above what I've ever wanted. But there are so many in this world who are struggling, good people who are constant in prayer, better than I, people all around the world, burying children that they aren't able to feed, watched them die...
My upbringing and faith-base taught me that God provides amply for them, too. But having experienced individuals and families in desperation as I have as a physician now, you definitely feel like there are times when God isn't providing.
In a witty way, a silly song captures fleeting desperation, the lack of understanding of the world we all have and are at varying levels of wanting to admit it. We do not know why we were put here, don't and will not understand the master plan.
As long as God continues to provide me with all that he does, I'll continue to realize the purpose of my life...to help others through life. I believe that's why we're all here...to help each other out through this maze. And if God were "no longer to provide?" I hope someone would do the same for me...help me, whatever is left of me.
Because there is enough resource, wealth and plenty that have been provided to some of us, that nobody's baby has to starve.
This title is an allusion to yet another song, this one in Portuguese. It is the pop version of a type of samba called partido alto by Chico Buarque, so titled.
Partido alto is witty, provocative and involves plays on words, as I understand. The song "Partido Alto" taps into this, and its chorus is an elaborate word play that, upon hearing it, I found brazen but could not help singing it.
The actual lyrics are as follows:
Diz que Deus dará,
Não vou duvidar,ô nega
E se Deus não dá,
Como é que vai ficar, ô nega?
Diz que deu, diz que dá,
E se Deus negar, ô nega
Eu vou me indignar e chega,
Deus dará, Deus dará
Works a lot better than the English translation; I'm not even sure how you would make this as fun in English, actually (a small amount of poetic license taken in the translation here):
They say that God will provide
I'm not going to doubt that, my dear
And if God doesn't give
How are we going to end up, my dear?
They say he gave, they say he gives
And if God denies us, my dear,
I'll become outraged and that's it
God will give, God will give
First of all, I've always found it hilarious that variations on the word "black" are used as a term of endearment in Latin America. Light skin children were called "negrito/a" when I was in the DR, and "nega" in Brazil is a term of endearment for one's wife, girlfriend or close female friend, regardless of race, but very commonly used among white people, and it definitely comes from "negra." So, essentially, it'd be like everyone in America said "nigga" as a term of endearment...or at least in a similar way that black people do.
Talk about how language shapes one's view of the world!
But I share that lyric to share actually something quite serious, at least for me. I open it with a jovial note. Tell me, how would a Muslim interpret this lyric? Would a Muslim even let these lyrics cross their lips?
On my playlist on my iPod, I skip over (but interestingly have not yet deleted) the song that ends with "A vezes tento creer mas não consigo. E todo um total insensatez..." Which translates, "Sometimes I try to believe, but I'm not able to. It's all complete nonsense."
Muslims, am I right? We are, by definition, believers. Not only are we believers, but we are submitters. I cannot let such words of disbelief pass into my psyche, not in the form of song, of verse, of speech, of thought, of image, nothing. I reject those lyrics. This is why some people consider music haram. Where do you draw the line between beautiful instrumentation and harmless lyrics to the very harmful. It will sneak up on you. And see how I've memorized that Portuguese lyric against my will! It is in my mind and undermining my faith and I would have been better off never having heard that lyric, astaghfirullah...
...or would I be?
I admit, I do intend to remove that song from my iPod, but I rarely listen to my iPod anymore and haven't changed songs on it for the last 3 years or so. I am a little tongue-in-cheek up there but I'm serious about taking care about the forms of media I ingest and how it can have an impact on our person. Disbelief is not my modus operandi, so I don't consume it.
However, songs like "Partido Alto" walk that line of inappropriateness. If I were my former self, actually, I would stop listening to this song, too, and try to purge it from my memory. To imply, ever, that God doesn't provide? Haram in the making, right there.
The song's protagonist is a person living in poverty, lamenting their position and poking fun at themselves. Their faith is fickle at best. God will provide...but what if He doesn't? What are we going to do? Well, if he doesn't provide, I'm going to be pissed...
But I still listen to this song. Why?
Because God has provided amply for me, more than I ever ask for and above what I've ever wanted. But there are so many in this world who are struggling, good people who are constant in prayer, better than I, people all around the world, burying children that they aren't able to feed, watched them die...
My upbringing and faith-base taught me that God provides amply for them, too. But having experienced individuals and families in desperation as I have as a physician now, you definitely feel like there are times when God isn't providing.
In a witty way, a silly song captures fleeting desperation, the lack of understanding of the world we all have and are at varying levels of wanting to admit it. We do not know why we were put here, don't and will not understand the master plan.
As long as God continues to provide me with all that he does, I'll continue to realize the purpose of my life...to help others through life. I believe that's why we're all here...to help each other out through this maze. And if God were "no longer to provide?" I hope someone would do the same for me...help me, whatever is left of me.
Because there is enough resource, wealth and plenty that have been provided to some of us, that nobody's baby has to starve.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Beauty's Soundtrack
As salaam alaikum,
Beauty's soundtrack would have to include this song. Always love it!
Beautiful is my brother, eternally my baby brother, not because of his autism, but mostly because for the first few years of his life, I could not pronounce his name, and that's what his name was. Baby Brother. Or, as I pronounced it, Baby Bwodda.
And this song reminds me of the times when he's revealed himself, when he's recalled things we shared before he could speak, before he made eye contact, before he could sit still in a chair. It reminds me of all those times I've cried. Such a beautiful cry and such a beautiful feeling to recall.
And the beauty of the music of this song, and hearing the verse about Sa Marina making everyone cry after entertaining them, making everyone sing...just the catharsis of a day of enjoyment closed with tears of joy...
Beauty's soundtrack, I'm telling you...
Beauty's soundtrack would have to include this song. Always love it!
Beautiful is my brother, eternally my baby brother, not because of his autism, but mostly because for the first few years of his life, I could not pronounce his name, and that's what his name was. Baby Brother. Or, as I pronounced it, Baby Bwodda.
And this song reminds me of the times when he's revealed himself, when he's recalled things we shared before he could speak, before he made eye contact, before he could sit still in a chair. It reminds me of all those times I've cried. Such a beautiful cry and such a beautiful feeling to recall.
And the beauty of the music of this song, and hearing the verse about Sa Marina making everyone cry after entertaining them, making everyone sing...just the catharsis of a day of enjoyment closed with tears of joy...
Beauty's soundtrack, I'm telling you...
Friday, February 24, 2012
In Wait for Mr. Right
As salaam alaikum,
After the thing with Y didn't work out (long story...long, happily hilarious story, haha!) I suddenly felt free! It was inexplicable. Instead of my usual moping after the end of a relationship (or not-relationship, as this case was) and believing that "no man likes me," I went to sleep, had a crazy dream where I felt freer than I ever have (but, for the sake of self-censorship, haha, will not reveal), and woke up and had an awesome day.
There was something liberating about not waiting around any more for this man to decide if he wanted to be with me or not, or get things started. There was something liberating about trying to make him fit in my man paradigm just because he was the one who liked me. Especially after I made the declaration "No more Nigerians!" (not that I'm excluding my motherland brothers entirely...but the record, brothers and sisters, has not been good), I felt especially free!
I realized that feeling lonely is one thing, but feeling like only one type of man or one group of men will likely end up marrying you is another feeling of desolation all together. Don't get me wrong, I love my heritage! I just don't think that ending up with a Nigerian man (and if Allah (swt) wills it, who am I to dispute it!) is necessarily the best fit with all that I am. I am Nigerian, but my tradition in Islam is more that of African Americans and not Nigerian Muslims, for example. I'm most Nigerian in my body type (apparently) and my food palate, but the second pais do meu coração is Brazil! I keep imagining instances in my life in which I could just pick up and live there, maybe in Salvador, for years. I clearly know more Brazilian music than Nigerian music. I don't speak Igbo...I speak Spanish and Portuguese. If I had to choose a hemisphere longitudinally, I would stay on this one. The family I grew up with is here, Latin America is here.
As I say in "The Hybrid Dance," I am more than an Igbo who is not Christian, more than an African American Muslim. I am a Muslimah, first and foremost, independent of my culture and ethnicity. I am Igbo Nigerian American, black American and a lot in between. I was born a daughter, a granddaughter a cousin and a niece, and I became a sister along the way to a very special young man who I tease but who has all of my heart. I am also a sambista, a noveleira, a future family physician and public health practitioner. I am a creative writer, a música popular brasileira singer! I am a nerd! I am a hispanohablante and a lusoparlante. I am a soul sister, loving me my soul music throughout the years.
And all of these things I am and all of these things that I have done, I've done by the grace of God without a partner in life, sometimes in wait for him and sometimes not. But I've become this full person not to thereafter mute parts of myself to fit with a man who likes parts of me and doesn't care about the rest. That is not why Allah (swt) gave me this time on earth to develop my interests, my career, my tastes. That is not why God has me waiting now, in wait of my Mr. Right. For me to act like I didn't have this time to become everything I dreamed and never dreamed of becoming just to throw it away for a man who is not it!
No! If that were the case, I could have met said man a long time ago, and maybe I wouldn't have been some of the things that I am. And that would have been okay, but that's not the reality.
No. I may be in wait for Mr. Right, but it isn't a twiddling-my-thumbs kind of wait. It's a Center of Awesomeness kind of wait. It's a me doing my own thing, taking care of my physical and emotional health and my hair health type of wait. It's me loving and living with those in my life type of wait. It's a me continuing to develop type of wait. Because, insha'Allah, I'm graduating from medical school this May with my MD and MPH, and I'm going to begin the transformative process of residency, iA. There is so much more that I'm going to be, iA, if he continues to bless me with the full life I've already had.
And Allah (swt) will provide for me a worthy partner, as I will be a worthy partner for him. Insha'Allah.
I know I'd be more content with myself, in and of myself, if I didn't have this strong need to share myself with others. I think the reason I've always wanted a partner is that I've wanted someone constant, who as long as he lives and as long as we are together, is going to be in my life. And even in times of absence, I'll know he'll be back. He'll be that person that I can share all of my life with, who doesn't move on with his life like friends will, who isn't my parents. I love the times I am alone, just me, writing or chilling or listening to music, but even with music in the background, it's quiet.
My friends know from the way I blab, I love to share my life. And I get lonely when there's no one to share my life with. But lonelier is the feeling that who you may be accepting into your life as a partner may not share. May not let you live in his blue.
É, você que é feito de azul, me deixa morar nesse azul...
I'm in wait for that man made of blue...or yellow, or magenta, or cerulean...or cinammon, or milk chocolate, or cream...of gold, whatever color he may be. I'm in wait for someone who lets me live all up in it, as I'll let him in my burnt orange!
After the thing with Y didn't work out (long story...long, happily hilarious story, haha!) I suddenly felt free! It was inexplicable. Instead of my usual moping after the end of a relationship (or not-relationship, as this case was) and believing that "no man likes me," I went to sleep, had a crazy dream where I felt freer than I ever have (but, for the sake of self-censorship, haha, will not reveal), and woke up and had an awesome day.
There was something liberating about not waiting around any more for this man to decide if he wanted to be with me or not, or get things started. There was something liberating about trying to make him fit in my man paradigm just because he was the one who liked me. Especially after I made the declaration "No more Nigerians!" (not that I'm excluding my motherland brothers entirely...but the record, brothers and sisters, has not been good), I felt especially free!
I realized that feeling lonely is one thing, but feeling like only one type of man or one group of men will likely end up marrying you is another feeling of desolation all together. Don't get me wrong, I love my heritage! I just don't think that ending up with a Nigerian man (and if Allah (swt) wills it, who am I to dispute it!) is necessarily the best fit with all that I am. I am Nigerian, but my tradition in Islam is more that of African Americans and not Nigerian Muslims, for example. I'm most Nigerian in my body type (apparently) and my food palate, but the second pais do meu coração is Brazil! I keep imagining instances in my life in which I could just pick up and live there, maybe in Salvador, for years. I clearly know more Brazilian music than Nigerian music. I don't speak Igbo...I speak Spanish and Portuguese. If I had to choose a hemisphere longitudinally, I would stay on this one. The family I grew up with is here, Latin America is here.
As I say in "The Hybrid Dance," I am more than an Igbo who is not Christian, more than an African American Muslim. I am a Muslimah, first and foremost, independent of my culture and ethnicity. I am Igbo Nigerian American, black American and a lot in between. I was born a daughter, a granddaughter a cousin and a niece, and I became a sister along the way to a very special young man who I tease but who has all of my heart. I am also a sambista, a noveleira, a future family physician and public health practitioner. I am a creative writer, a música popular brasileira singer! I am a nerd! I am a hispanohablante and a lusoparlante. I am a soul sister, loving me my soul music throughout the years.
And all of these things I am and all of these things that I have done, I've done by the grace of God without a partner in life, sometimes in wait for him and sometimes not. But I've become this full person not to thereafter mute parts of myself to fit with a man who likes parts of me and doesn't care about the rest. That is not why Allah (swt) gave me this time on earth to develop my interests, my career, my tastes. That is not why God has me waiting now, in wait of my Mr. Right. For me to act like I didn't have this time to become everything I dreamed and never dreamed of becoming just to throw it away for a man who is not it!
No! If that were the case, I could have met said man a long time ago, and maybe I wouldn't have been some of the things that I am. And that would have been okay, but that's not the reality.
No. I may be in wait for Mr. Right, but it isn't a twiddling-my-thumbs kind of wait. It's a Center of Awesomeness kind of wait. It's a me doing my own thing, taking care of my physical and emotional health and my hair health type of wait. It's me loving and living with those in my life type of wait. It's a me continuing to develop type of wait. Because, insha'Allah, I'm graduating from medical school this May with my MD and MPH, and I'm going to begin the transformative process of residency, iA. There is so much more that I'm going to be, iA, if he continues to bless me with the full life I've already had.
And Allah (swt) will provide for me a worthy partner, as I will be a worthy partner for him. Insha'Allah.
I know I'd be more content with myself, in and of myself, if I didn't have this strong need to share myself with others. I think the reason I've always wanted a partner is that I've wanted someone constant, who as long as he lives and as long as we are together, is going to be in my life. And even in times of absence, I'll know he'll be back. He'll be that person that I can share all of my life with, who doesn't move on with his life like friends will, who isn't my parents. I love the times I am alone, just me, writing or chilling or listening to music, but even with music in the background, it's quiet.
My friends know from the way I blab, I love to share my life. And I get lonely when there's no one to share my life with. But lonelier is the feeling that who you may be accepting into your life as a partner may not share. May not let you live in his blue.
É, você que é feito de azul, me deixa morar nesse azul...
I'm in wait for that man made of blue...or yellow, or magenta, or cerulean...or cinammon, or milk chocolate, or cream...of gold, whatever color he may be. I'm in wait for someone who lets me live all up in it, as I'll let him in my burnt orange!
Saturday, January 28, 2012
My Music Babes
As salaam alaikum,
There are a few artists, some singers/songwriters, some vocalists, whose songs or renditions of standards have functioned like the soundtrack for my life at certain times. These are my Music Babes. The lyrical loves of my life, my vocal aspirations. These artists are (or were) prolific, soulful, genius, amazing. A unique, full, gorgeous expression of the human experience. I love them!
This is minha homenagem to them.
(1) Stevland Hardaway Morris - Mr. Stevie Wonder! He is my favorite artist of all time, and always will be. Where do I begin? Probably the first song I remember of his was my mother's favorite when I was about three years old, "Part Time Lover." Did not understand a word of it, but I can still see my mother dancing around the family room of my childhood house...especially since that moment was captured on VHS, now transferred to DVD. The next song that stands out in my memory was, "Another Star," which began with a cadence that reminded me of my brother's head. For my mother, my brother's song was "All I Do." I remember her saying how beautiful "As" was when I was in high school, but I wouldn't fully appreciate Stevie until college, when I fell in love for the first time. The theme song for that love will always and forever be "Overjoyed," a song that I faintly remembered from an 80s or R&B CD collection commercial from the 90s, such that when I hear one part of the song, I think of that blue screen that they would show at the end of the commercials. Where else do I go with Stevie Wonder? "I Believe When I Fall In Love It Will Be Forever?" "Pastime Paradise?" "For Once in My Life," to go a little older? "Moon Blue," to go a little bit more contemporary? The timeless "Isn't She Lovely?" Masha'Allah! What a beautiful man!
Favorite lyrics: "We all know sometimes life's hates and troubles/ can make you wish you were born in another time and space./ But you can bet your life times that and twice its double/ that God knew exactly where He wanted you to be placed./ So next time when you say you're in it but not of it/ you're not helping to make this a place sometimes called Hell./ Change your words into Truth and then change that Truth into Love/ and maybe our children's grandchildren and their great-grandchildren will tell." - "As" (see above)
(2) Djavan Caetano Viana - Djavan! When did I first discover this musical genius, my Brazilian, seeing Stevie Wonder? I think I met him while touring Pandora sometime after I took my Brazilian history course in college. In that course, I was exposed to the song, "Haiti" by Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil from Tropicália 2. I made a station out of that, and I think songs by Djavan came up from that. The first song I really remember from him has to be "Doidice" (my upload onto youtube, gente! It wasn't there before...). I just listened to it quietly while studying during my first year of medical school, until the last verses of the song, which I recognized were in Spanish. From then commenced my absolute obsession with this song. I looked up the lyrics, translated them the best I could with my Portuguese for Spanish Speakers knowledge, ordered Bird of Paradise on CD Universe so I could own the song (since it was not available for download), opened the cover, and found the lyrics that floored me: "After I discovered that there is you, I never existed again." Damn. That was me and MTQ! I thereafter discovered that I loved Djavan as an artist in general. My favorite songs of his to sing include "Meu Bem Querer," and "Pétala." My favorite song to samba and sing to will always be "Flor de Lis," as I did many a time in my samba course. And while "Doidice" will always be my favorite, "Oceano" is I think one of his most beautiful. I'm not done learning his standards, as there are others, but this man is brilliant...Stevie Wonder agrees. They did "Samurai" together! Beautiful man in his 60s with his beautiful son, Max Viana, by his side at both concerts I went to.
Favorite lyrics: "Me apaixonei?/ Talvez, pode ser./ Enloqueci?/ Não sei, nunca vi./ Preciso sair/ depois que eu descobri que há você,/ nunca mais existi." - "Doidice" (see above)
Translated: I fell in love? Maybe, it could be. I went crazy? Don't know, I've never seen it. I need to get out. After I discovered that there is you, I never existed again.)
AND
"Assim que o dia amanheceu lá no mar alto da paixão/ dava pra ver o tempo ruir." - "Oceano" (see above)
Translated: Now that the day has dawned there in the high tides of passion, one is able to see time ruin. (So poetic!)
(3) Elis Regina Carvalho Costa - Elis Regina. Before I heard this woman's voice and knew who she was, all of my music babes had been mainly men. For this reason, my alto is the most developed, although I think I touch the range of a mezzo-soprano. Then, I hear the Portuguese version of "Corcovado" by my one of my standards, my original babes, Tom Jobim (to the point I'd consider naming one of my kids Antônio Carlos). I didn't know at the time who the female vocalist was of this song I'd heard the smokey voice of Astrud Gilberto sing in English, but I liked learning to sing along with it. She enunciated so clearly, so uniquely...it was gorgeous. I discovered later it was Elis. I wouldn't know about her until I traveled to Brazil, coming back from the public health center in São Paulo, turning on the small television in the pousada to the novela, "Ciranda da Pedra," and hearing Elis belt out "Redescobrir," which was the theme of the novela. I still get saudades when I see that opening...that was my first taste of Brazil, as I barely ate in those first few days, nervous as I was that I was in a country where I didn't really speak the language. And in a way, my finding Elis was really a rediscovery, because she died in 1982, before I was born and 26 years before I would know any of her music. But her vocal interpretations of Brazilian standards, which got her credited as creating Música Popular Brasileira, inspired me in ways that a female singer never had. I found myself aspiring to her range, her passion, her soul. I laughed with her in "Vou Deitar e Rolar," and "Canto de Ossanha." I danced gently over her enunciation in "Só Tinha de Ser Com Você," which I have vowed will be a lullaby for my children. I fell in love forever after uniquely with her interpretation of "Aguas de Março," my favorite song of all time, as well as Brazil's. And I will always be blown away and forever grateful for her rendition of a song I had known for years from Pandora, but never like this: "O Trem Azul." There are so much more of Elis I've yet to learn and hear, but with "O Trem Azul," I get a little taste of what it means for there to be life after death.
Favorite Vocals: "O Trem Azul," when she sings along with the electric guitar. Or, just listen to the song A Capella.
These are three artists whose music I have a lot of and never tire of, the songwriters and singers of the soundtracks of my life. I fell in love with MTQ over "Overjoyed," and it faded away with "Doidice." And B went away with "O Trem Azul." Just a few examples. Beautiful people with a most beautiful gift from God! Masha'Allah!
There are a few artists, some singers/songwriters, some vocalists, whose songs or renditions of standards have functioned like the soundtrack for my life at certain times. These are my Music Babes. The lyrical loves of my life, my vocal aspirations. These artists are (or were) prolific, soulful, genius, amazing. A unique, full, gorgeous expression of the human experience. I love them!
This is minha homenagem to them.
(1) Stevland Hardaway Morris - Mr. Stevie Wonder! He is my favorite artist of all time, and always will be. Where do I begin? Probably the first song I remember of his was my mother's favorite when I was about three years old, "Part Time Lover." Did not understand a word of it, but I can still see my mother dancing around the family room of my childhood house...especially since that moment was captured on VHS, now transferred to DVD. The next song that stands out in my memory was, "Another Star," which began with a cadence that reminded me of my brother's head. For my mother, my brother's song was "All I Do." I remember her saying how beautiful "As" was when I was in high school, but I wouldn't fully appreciate Stevie until college, when I fell in love for the first time. The theme song for that love will always and forever be "Overjoyed," a song that I faintly remembered from an 80s or R&B CD collection commercial from the 90s, such that when I hear one part of the song, I think of that blue screen that they would show at the end of the commercials. Where else do I go with Stevie Wonder? "I Believe When I Fall In Love It Will Be Forever?" "Pastime Paradise?" "For Once in My Life," to go a little older? "Moon Blue," to go a little bit more contemporary? The timeless "Isn't She Lovely?" Masha'Allah! What a beautiful man!
Favorite lyrics: "We all know sometimes life's hates and troubles/ can make you wish you were born in another time and space./ But you can bet your life times that and twice its double/ that God knew exactly where He wanted you to be placed./ So next time when you say you're in it but not of it/ you're not helping to make this a place sometimes called Hell./ Change your words into Truth and then change that Truth into Love/ and maybe our children's grandchildren and their great-grandchildren will tell." - "As" (see above)
(2) Djavan Caetano Viana - Djavan! When did I first discover this musical genius, my Brazilian, seeing Stevie Wonder? I think I met him while touring Pandora sometime after I took my Brazilian history course in college. In that course, I was exposed to the song, "Haiti" by Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil from Tropicália 2. I made a station out of that, and I think songs by Djavan came up from that. The first song I really remember from him has to be "Doidice" (my upload onto youtube, gente! It wasn't there before...). I just listened to it quietly while studying during my first year of medical school, until the last verses of the song, which I recognized were in Spanish. From then commenced my absolute obsession with this song. I looked up the lyrics, translated them the best I could with my Portuguese for Spanish Speakers knowledge, ordered Bird of Paradise on CD Universe so I could own the song (since it was not available for download), opened the cover, and found the lyrics that floored me: "After I discovered that there is you, I never existed again." Damn. That was me and MTQ! I thereafter discovered that I loved Djavan as an artist in general. My favorite songs of his to sing include "Meu Bem Querer," and "Pétala." My favorite song to samba and sing to will always be "Flor de Lis," as I did many a time in my samba course. And while "Doidice" will always be my favorite, "Oceano" is I think one of his most beautiful. I'm not done learning his standards, as there are others, but this man is brilliant...Stevie Wonder agrees. They did "Samurai" together! Beautiful man in his 60s with his beautiful son, Max Viana, by his side at both concerts I went to.
Favorite lyrics: "Me apaixonei?/ Talvez, pode ser./ Enloqueci?/ Não sei, nunca vi./ Preciso sair/ depois que eu descobri que há você,/ nunca mais existi." - "Doidice" (see above)
Translated: I fell in love? Maybe, it could be. I went crazy? Don't know, I've never seen it. I need to get out. After I discovered that there is you, I never existed again.)
AND
"Assim que o dia amanheceu lá no mar alto da paixão/ dava pra ver o tempo ruir." - "Oceano" (see above)
Translated: Now that the day has dawned there in the high tides of passion, one is able to see time ruin. (So poetic!)
(3) Elis Regina Carvalho Costa - Elis Regina. Before I heard this woman's voice and knew who she was, all of my music babes had been mainly men. For this reason, my alto is the most developed, although I think I touch the range of a mezzo-soprano. Then, I hear the Portuguese version of "Corcovado" by my one of my standards, my original babes, Tom Jobim (to the point I'd consider naming one of my kids Antônio Carlos). I didn't know at the time who the female vocalist was of this song I'd heard the smokey voice of Astrud Gilberto sing in English, but I liked learning to sing along with it. She enunciated so clearly, so uniquely...it was gorgeous. I discovered later it was Elis. I wouldn't know about her until I traveled to Brazil, coming back from the public health center in São Paulo, turning on the small television in the pousada to the novela, "Ciranda da Pedra," and hearing Elis belt out "Redescobrir," which was the theme of the novela. I still get saudades when I see that opening...that was my first taste of Brazil, as I barely ate in those first few days, nervous as I was that I was in a country where I didn't really speak the language. And in a way, my finding Elis was really a rediscovery, because she died in 1982, before I was born and 26 years before I would know any of her music. But her vocal interpretations of Brazilian standards, which got her credited as creating Música Popular Brasileira, inspired me in ways that a female singer never had. I found myself aspiring to her range, her passion, her soul. I laughed with her in "Vou Deitar e Rolar," and "Canto de Ossanha." I danced gently over her enunciation in "Só Tinha de Ser Com Você," which I have vowed will be a lullaby for my children. I fell in love forever after uniquely with her interpretation of "Aguas de Março," my favorite song of all time, as well as Brazil's. And I will always be blown away and forever grateful for her rendition of a song I had known for years from Pandora, but never like this: "O Trem Azul." There are so much more of Elis I've yet to learn and hear, but with "O Trem Azul," I get a little taste of what it means for there to be life after death.
Favorite Vocals: "O Trem Azul," when she sings along with the electric guitar. Or, just listen to the song A Capella.
These are three artists whose music I have a lot of and never tire of, the songwriters and singers of the soundtracks of my life. I fell in love with MTQ over "Overjoyed," and it faded away with "Doidice." And B went away with "O Trem Azul." Just a few examples. Beautiful people with a most beautiful gift from God! Masha'Allah!
Saturday, January 7, 2012
O meu amor conhece cada gesto seu...
As salaam alaikum,
I admit, I am a maior noveleira, and not really ashamed of it. Well...not really, haha, compared to like, actual Brazilians. I occasionally watch the novela das nove on globo through clandestine novela blogs...I don't really have time for anything else. I get wind of a lot of Brazilian music that way. I particularly like this one...has that eternal spring feeling that I love in a lot of genres of Brazilian music and throughout a lot of MPB...
The title translates to, "My love knows every one of your gestures." Fits perfectly with Paulo and Ester...I don't see how they're going to swing them getting back together! And, coitado de Guaracy...
I'm curious about how many other non-Brazilians in the US watch the novela das nove from Globo? I have a feeling more people are football fans...and as I saw one woman say of novelas, they are usually não vê-las (I don't see them)...hehehe.
I love Ana Carolina's voice, by the way! Shout out to the altos of the world, as much as I love to strain to be a mezzo-soprano, like Elis Regina.
I admit, I am a maior noveleira, and not really ashamed of it. Well...not really, haha, compared to like, actual Brazilians. I occasionally watch the novela das nove on globo through clandestine novela blogs...I don't really have time for anything else. I get wind of a lot of Brazilian music that way. I particularly like this one...has that eternal spring feeling that I love in a lot of genres of Brazilian music and throughout a lot of MPB...
The title translates to, "My love knows every one of your gestures." Fits perfectly with Paulo and Ester...I don't see how they're going to swing them getting back together! And, coitado de Guaracy...
I'm curious about how many other non-Brazilians in the US watch the novela das nove from Globo? I have a feeling more people are football fans...and as I saw one woman say of novelas, they are usually não vê-las (I don't see them)...hehehe.
I love Ana Carolina's voice, by the way! Shout out to the altos of the world, as much as I love to strain to be a mezzo-soprano, like Elis Regina.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Segura
As salaam alaikum,
I haven't posted a lot as of late because I don't have a lot to say. As tiring and as expensive as the process has been, the application process into residency has been very rewarding. I can wait to make my final transformation into a physician, and I hope I do so at a place that is as nurturing for me and of my aspirations as possible. I'll make the ensuing decision with a lot of care, consideration and foremost, prayer.
I also will make sure I do all I can to make sure I'm a solid new MD upon entering my program. I may take up most of that effort in January when I return to med school, iA.
Anyway, the other reason that I haven't written a lot is that I really do feel at peace with everything around me. My family welcomed 5 new babies on one side, one new baby on the other. The youngest is 4 days old and the oldest is 11 months. I love the field I'm going into and my experiences on the interview trail have been all very positive. I am at home with my loving family and I have friends back at school awaiting my arrival to hang out. God has blessed me beyond what I'm ever able to comprehend, but making discoveries along the way as I live this life I've been given has been amazing. This has been an awesome year, but a year of ups and downs for sure.
Anyway, so I'm feeling pretty good about this stage in my life. Nothing really to say, nothing really to rock the boat with. I was going to venture into the world of politics and write about how I think the President is doing, but the thought of doing that made me feel very tired. Instead, I will share with you that a guilty pleasure of mine is watching Brazilian novelas, and this song is awesome...fits the character it's played for perfectly, and is overall a hilarious song.
And I function like this time...securing things if I'm able, hehe...
I haven't posted a lot as of late because I don't have a lot to say. As tiring and as expensive as the process has been, the application process into residency has been very rewarding. I can wait to make my final transformation into a physician, and I hope I do so at a place that is as nurturing for me and of my aspirations as possible. I'll make the ensuing decision with a lot of care, consideration and foremost, prayer.
I also will make sure I do all I can to make sure I'm a solid new MD upon entering my program. I may take up most of that effort in January when I return to med school, iA.
Anyway, the other reason that I haven't written a lot is that I really do feel at peace with everything around me. My family welcomed 5 new babies on one side, one new baby on the other. The youngest is 4 days old and the oldest is 11 months. I love the field I'm going into and my experiences on the interview trail have been all very positive. I am at home with my loving family and I have friends back at school awaiting my arrival to hang out. God has blessed me beyond what I'm ever able to comprehend, but making discoveries along the way as I live this life I've been given has been amazing. This has been an awesome year, but a year of ups and downs for sure.
Anyway, so I'm feeling pretty good about this stage in my life. Nothing really to say, nothing really to rock the boat with. I was going to venture into the world of politics and write about how I think the President is doing, but the thought of doing that made me feel very tired. Instead, I will share with you that a guilty pleasure of mine is watching Brazilian novelas, and this song is awesome...fits the character it's played for perfectly, and is overall a hilarious song.
And I function like this time...securing things if I'm able, hehe...
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
No More Blues / Sixteenth Juz
As salaam alaikum,
A new baby cousin has come into the world, healthy and hopefully able to be done with her oxygen by nasal cannula soon, insha'Allah. It's so amazing...I talked to her mother, my cousin, when she was only a hope and a prayer, and now she's here, in the flesh, a whole person that none of us were able to imagine before...a whole little person who may or may not be at all grateful to her mother. I never tire of seeing new life come into the world, but I'm very close to my cousin, her mother, so it seems more amazing than any birth I've ever witnessed. The only one that will rival it will be my own deliveries, insha'Allah.
I was so happy today (except for the brief time that I thought she had an apneic event, but she seems to be doing fine), I was happier than I've been in a while. It's also with this new-found stance I've happened to come across...the raising of children is worthy, but the want of children for the challenge of motherhood and the benefits it will bring me and the want to raise little believers, while all very worthy, is also me being ungrateful for all I have and am not doing all I can with right now. Soon it will come, yes, but...there's a lot for me to do in the meantime.
So no more blues! Let's see how long I can hang onto that after Ramadan...or even tomorrow.
Although, I do like this song:
The lyrics translate - "This morning, when I woke up, I looked at my life and I was startled. I have more than 20 years behind me. I have more than a million questions without answers. I'm linked to a blue future."
I have felt that way before, which is why I like the song. This is also why I used to fast music during Ramadan...there's no time for such sentiments when you're seeking the Truth.
Because in Truth, there is no space for blues. Any wrong in your life is either the result of something you know you've done or it is a test for you in the organic way of test...you're waiting while God gives you something in a space and time that's better for you, for example. So need for blues...you are not being done wrong. There is either an overweening justice or reason for your sorrow, that which closeness to God will solve.
But I did wake up suddenly and discovered that I've got more than 20 years behind me...26 now. Insha'Allah I do better with my life...
"Hence, bear with patience whatever they [who deny the truth] may say, and extol thy Sustainer's limitless glory and praise Him before the rising of the sun and before its setting; and extol His glory, too, during some of the hours of the night, as well as during the hours of the day, so that though might attain to happiness. And never turn thine eyes [with longing] toward whatever splendor of this world's life We may have allowed so many others to enjoy in order that We might test them thereby; for the sustenance which thy Sustainer provides [for thee] is better and more enduring.
"And bid thy people to pray, and preserve therein. [But remember:] We do not ask thee to provide sustenance [for Us]: it is We who provide sustenance for thee. And the future belongs to the God-conscious." (20:130-132).
That's a nuance I think so many of us fail to grasp...and I think it's okay, because some people function better with the idea of pleasing God for God's sake, and not ultimately for our own sake. I actually am one who functions better with the idea that it's for me, and if I say something that I do for the sake of God, it's because He knows what's best for me, while in my only limited vision of things, I may want something else. If I'm temporarily blinded and can't do things for my own sake (which happens a lot, actually), then I do it because I know that God knows best.
Anyway, no more blues, insha'Allah. I know I won't be happy all the time, but no more unnecessary angst!
A new baby cousin has come into the world, healthy and hopefully able to be done with her oxygen by nasal cannula soon, insha'Allah. It's so amazing...I talked to her mother, my cousin, when she was only a hope and a prayer, and now she's here, in the flesh, a whole person that none of us were able to imagine before...a whole little person who may or may not be at all grateful to her mother. I never tire of seeing new life come into the world, but I'm very close to my cousin, her mother, so it seems more amazing than any birth I've ever witnessed. The only one that will rival it will be my own deliveries, insha'Allah.
I was so happy today (except for the brief time that I thought she had an apneic event, but she seems to be doing fine), I was happier than I've been in a while. It's also with this new-found stance I've happened to come across...the raising of children is worthy, but the want of children for the challenge of motherhood and the benefits it will bring me and the want to raise little believers, while all very worthy, is also me being ungrateful for all I have and am not doing all I can with right now. Soon it will come, yes, but...there's a lot for me to do in the meantime.
So no more blues! Let's see how long I can hang onto that after Ramadan...or even tomorrow.
Although, I do like this song:
The lyrics translate - "This morning, when I woke up, I looked at my life and I was startled. I have more than 20 years behind me. I have more than a million questions without answers. I'm linked to a blue future."
I have felt that way before, which is why I like the song. This is also why I used to fast music during Ramadan...there's no time for such sentiments when you're seeking the Truth.
Because in Truth, there is no space for blues. Any wrong in your life is either the result of something you know you've done or it is a test for you in the organic way of test...you're waiting while God gives you something in a space and time that's better for you, for example. So need for blues...you are not being done wrong. There is either an overweening justice or reason for your sorrow, that which closeness to God will solve.
But I did wake up suddenly and discovered that I've got more than 20 years behind me...26 now. Insha'Allah I do better with my life...
"Hence, bear with patience whatever they [who deny the truth] may say, and extol thy Sustainer's limitless glory and praise Him before the rising of the sun and before its setting; and extol His glory, too, during some of the hours of the night, as well as during the hours of the day, so that though might attain to happiness. And never turn thine eyes [with longing] toward whatever splendor of this world's life We may have allowed so many others to enjoy in order that We might test them thereby; for the sustenance which thy Sustainer provides [for thee] is better and more enduring.
"And bid thy people to pray, and preserve therein. [But remember:] We do not ask thee to provide sustenance [for Us]: it is We who provide sustenance for thee. And the future belongs to the God-conscious." (20:130-132).
That's a nuance I think so many of us fail to grasp...and I think it's okay, because some people function better with the idea of pleasing God for God's sake, and not ultimately for our own sake. I actually am one who functions better with the idea that it's for me, and if I say something that I do for the sake of God, it's because He knows what's best for me, while in my only limited vision of things, I may want something else. If I'm temporarily blinded and can't do things for my own sake (which happens a lot, actually), then I do it because I know that God knows best.
Anyway, no more blues, insha'Allah. I know I won't be happy all the time, but no more unnecessary angst!
Thursday, July 7, 2011
My Favorite 60s Concert Clips
As salaam alaikum,
These 60s concert clips almost make me wish that I was born around the time my mother was (my mother said that if we were age mates, we would have been friends...yeah) so I could have attended these concerts, even as a preteen.
The first is from the incomparable Otis Redding, who was my age when he died. "Try a Little Tenderness."
The second is by Chico Buarque, a song whose first stanza I often quote, a beautiful song that expresses the frustrations of life, losing control in the course of life, with hints of the frustration of living in a dictatorship, "Roda Viva," or The Wheel of Life.
What's your favorite 60s concert moment? Haha, if you have one.
These 60s concert clips almost make me wish that I was born around the time my mother was (my mother said that if we were age mates, we would have been friends...yeah) so I could have attended these concerts, even as a preteen.
The first is from the incomparable Otis Redding, who was my age when he died. "Try a Little Tenderness."
The second is by Chico Buarque, a song whose first stanza I often quote, a beautiful song that expresses the frustrations of life, losing control in the course of life, with hints of the frustration of living in a dictatorship, "Roda Viva," or The Wheel of Life.
What's your favorite 60s concert moment? Haha, if you have one.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Roda Viva / The Wheel of Life
As salaam alaikum,
A gente quer ter voz ativa, no nosso destino mandar. Mas eis que chega a roda viva e carrega o destino pra lá...
We want to have an active voice, command in our own destiny. But here comes the wheel of life and carries destiny far away...
I like looking at maps. I pride myself at being able to look at a map once, figure out my route and be able to get there with little more direction than looking at the map once while walking on foot. Driving is a little bit more complicated...there are too many twists and turns for me to be able to look at the map once, but luckily GPS makes it so much easier to travel while mapping your direction. This may be the most hackneyed metaphor I use, but I wish there were a map for life, for the straight way.
My aunt posted a quote on her facebook that I just remembered that I think applies to what I want to say, and is a dictum I'll take with me for the rest of my life, actually.
"Why do people ask the question, 'what is my purpose on earth?' instead of asking, 'what values, beliefs and morals do I want to uphold while I am on earth?" You answer the latter and then you will get the answer to 'What [is] your purpose on earth?"
I liked that...and I liked it on facebook, but I like this. And I'll carry it with me for the rest of this entry.
We want to have an active voice, em nosso destino mandar, we want to have the road map so we can get to the end goal, heaven, life's ultimate attainment, wherever our spirituality is at the time, but the fact of the matter is, there has never been a road map for life.
Okay, yeah yeah, scripture. Yes, my guide to life is Qur'an, but the Qur'an tells me the basics of following the straight way. The Qur'an does not tell me what to do as a single Muslimah who wants to marry but has a Christian father who has his misgivings about my being Muslim, for example. Yes, the Qur'an outlines a way of life...
If I may stretch this metaphor to the limit, Islam for me is like drivers' ed. I learned to buckle my seat belt, drive the speed limit, not turn on red, merge into traffic, not drive in the left lane or on the shoulder or too long in the turning lane, rules that I know will serve me well. I won't avoid all accidents, because sometimes the other person is at fault. Sometimes I will make a mistake. Sometimes I'll bend the rules and speed a little, pass on the shoulder sometimes. Sometimes those will result in accidents, sometimes not. Somethings I do may hurt my vehicle. But I have my guide in my drivers' education, and I trust in God as I drive that I will survive the trip.
The metaphor breaks down because Islam also gives you ultimate destinations. Growing up, honoring your parents, sustaining oneself with honest work, marrying, having children, carrying for family and the needy, the hungry, the orphans. Death.
But there is no map to these destinations. No scripture gives you that, and our jobs as humans were not to create a map to these destinations as some have tried to do too many times and end up making our lives miserable or too difficult. I understand now.
I used to wish finding a husband were like applying to medical or graduate school, as if there were a process with deadlines and interviews and decisions and choice. Quero ter voz ativa, I want to have an active voice, and I do to a certain extent...and then, I don't.
Eis que chega a roda viva...
No religion tells us why we are here, ultimately. Some Muslims say that it's to serve Allah (swt). I think that deserves more explanation. I mean, even the angels ask (I think that's a name of a book), which is a powerful concept:
(2:30) "Behold, I am about to establish upon earth one who shall inherit it." They said: "Wilt Thou place on it such as will spread corruption thereon and shed blood -whereas it is we who extol Thy limitless glory, and praise Thee, and hallow Thy name?" [God] answered: "Verily, I know that which you do not know."
So why are we humans on earth? We don't know. God knows what not even the angels that serve him and bow to us know.
I'm pretty comfortable in thinking that our purpose on this earth is to help each other through life. Serve Allah (swt)? Of course! But God does not need our devotion...our devotion to Him is for us. So part of serving Allah (swt) are doing good deeds that will help our souls, and the other part of serving Him is doing good deeds that will help others...zakat in all forms, from feeding the hungry, supporting the orphan as traditionally outlined by the Qur'an, to being in a service career...public service, public health, medicine, etc.
But my personal purpose of life? My story? My stops along the way down the road of life? Insha'Allah, He has it planned and He is guiding me as He did guide me through life. I negate predestination. Predestination is an artifact of the limitation of us to think outside of space and time. God exists outside of space and time, so nothing is written without being currently written and being written in the future all at once. Since God is outside of space and time, God exists in all dimensions of my life, even in those that I'm not able to perceive...
So instead of worrying about what my individual story will be, I will instead, as my aunt said, worry about my values, my beliefs and my morals. I will make some decisions in life, but life also happens and it's all about what values I invoke to make decisions, what beliefs I use to buffer any bumps along the way and with what morals I use to travel through life.
And the truth of the matter is, I don't want to know what the next step is! It seems more comfortable, but from looking at my mentors and role models, it seems as if the best and most important things that happen in life are completely unplanned, are stumbled upon. Instead of saying God has written, I'll stick with the present tense and say that God is guiding me. If I fight God, who is with me in all dimensions, I may get burned now or later, but He's always there for me, fortifying me, building me up to prepare me to be with Him, whatever purpose I may serve. I am not a pawn or any other chess piece. This is not a game.
I don't know why I exist. I don't know what I'm going to do ultimately in life, who I am going to serve, whose wife I'm going to be, whose mother I'm going to be, whose aunt I'm going to be. So many people in my life yet to come to pass. However, I now understand that instead of worrying about the specifics of the destination and the route, I'm going to make sure that I am the best that I can be as God outlined for me, and as life happens, I will be equipped to make the best of decisions, to cope well with hardships and challenges, and to conduct myself with class, dignity and modesty.
The rest, I leave to God, because, verily, He knows what we do not know.
A gente quer ter voz ativa, no nosso destino mandar. Mas eis que chega a roda viva e carrega o destino pra lá...
We want to have an active voice, command in our own destiny. But here comes the wheel of life and carries destiny far away...
I like looking at maps. I pride myself at being able to look at a map once, figure out my route and be able to get there with little more direction than looking at the map once while walking on foot. Driving is a little bit more complicated...there are too many twists and turns for me to be able to look at the map once, but luckily GPS makes it so much easier to travel while mapping your direction. This may be the most hackneyed metaphor I use, but I wish there were a map for life, for the straight way.
My aunt posted a quote on her facebook that I just remembered that I think applies to what I want to say, and is a dictum I'll take with me for the rest of my life, actually.
"Why do people ask the question, 'what is my purpose on earth?' instead of asking, 'what values, beliefs and morals do I want to uphold while I am on earth?" You answer the latter and then you will get the answer to 'What [is] your purpose on earth?"
I liked that...and I liked it on facebook, but I like this. And I'll carry it with me for the rest of this entry.
We want to have an active voice, em nosso destino mandar, we want to have the road map so we can get to the end goal, heaven, life's ultimate attainment, wherever our spirituality is at the time, but the fact of the matter is, there has never been a road map for life.
Okay, yeah yeah, scripture. Yes, my guide to life is Qur'an, but the Qur'an tells me the basics of following the straight way. The Qur'an does not tell me what to do as a single Muslimah who wants to marry but has a Christian father who has his misgivings about my being Muslim, for example. Yes, the Qur'an outlines a way of life...
If I may stretch this metaphor to the limit, Islam for me is like drivers' ed. I learned to buckle my seat belt, drive the speed limit, not turn on red, merge into traffic, not drive in the left lane or on the shoulder or too long in the turning lane, rules that I know will serve me well. I won't avoid all accidents, because sometimes the other person is at fault. Sometimes I will make a mistake. Sometimes I'll bend the rules and speed a little, pass on the shoulder sometimes. Sometimes those will result in accidents, sometimes not. Somethings I do may hurt my vehicle. But I have my guide in my drivers' education, and I trust in God as I drive that I will survive the trip.
The metaphor breaks down because Islam also gives you ultimate destinations. Growing up, honoring your parents, sustaining oneself with honest work, marrying, having children, carrying for family and the needy, the hungry, the orphans. Death.
But there is no map to these destinations. No scripture gives you that, and our jobs as humans were not to create a map to these destinations as some have tried to do too many times and end up making our lives miserable or too difficult. I understand now.
I used to wish finding a husband were like applying to medical or graduate school, as if there were a process with deadlines and interviews and decisions and choice. Quero ter voz ativa, I want to have an active voice, and I do to a certain extent...and then, I don't.
Eis que chega a roda viva...
No religion tells us why we are here, ultimately. Some Muslims say that it's to serve Allah (swt). I think that deserves more explanation. I mean, even the angels ask (I think that's a name of a book), which is a powerful concept:
(2:30) "Behold, I am about to establish upon earth one who shall inherit it." They said: "Wilt Thou place on it such as will spread corruption thereon and shed blood -whereas it is we who extol Thy limitless glory, and praise Thee, and hallow Thy name?" [God] answered: "Verily, I know that which you do not know."
So why are we humans on earth? We don't know. God knows what not even the angels that serve him and bow to us know.
I'm pretty comfortable in thinking that our purpose on this earth is to help each other through life. Serve Allah (swt)? Of course! But God does not need our devotion...our devotion to Him is for us. So part of serving Allah (swt) are doing good deeds that will help our souls, and the other part of serving Him is doing good deeds that will help others...zakat in all forms, from feeding the hungry, supporting the orphan as traditionally outlined by the Qur'an, to being in a service career...public service, public health, medicine, etc.
But my personal purpose of life? My story? My stops along the way down the road of life? Insha'Allah, He has it planned and He is guiding me as He did guide me through life. I negate predestination. Predestination is an artifact of the limitation of us to think outside of space and time. God exists outside of space and time, so nothing is written without being currently written and being written in the future all at once. Since God is outside of space and time, God exists in all dimensions of my life, even in those that I'm not able to perceive...
So instead of worrying about what my individual story will be, I will instead, as my aunt said, worry about my values, my beliefs and my morals. I will make some decisions in life, but life also happens and it's all about what values I invoke to make decisions, what beliefs I use to buffer any bumps along the way and with what morals I use to travel through life.
And the truth of the matter is, I don't want to know what the next step is! It seems more comfortable, but from looking at my mentors and role models, it seems as if the best and most important things that happen in life are completely unplanned, are stumbled upon. Instead of saying God has written, I'll stick with the present tense and say that God is guiding me. If I fight God, who is with me in all dimensions, I may get burned now or later, but He's always there for me, fortifying me, building me up to prepare me to be with Him, whatever purpose I may serve. I am not a pawn or any other chess piece. This is not a game.
I don't know why I exist. I don't know what I'm going to do ultimately in life, who I am going to serve, whose wife I'm going to be, whose mother I'm going to be, whose aunt I'm going to be. So many people in my life yet to come to pass. However, I now understand that instead of worrying about the specifics of the destination and the route, I'm going to make sure that I am the best that I can be as God outlined for me, and as life happens, I will be equipped to make the best of decisions, to cope well with hardships and challenges, and to conduct myself with class, dignity and modesty.
The rest, I leave to God, because, verily, He knows what we do not know.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Wednesday Word Vomit
As salaam alikum,
Although I avoided making this thing student-y inasmuch as possible, I must say...aaaaahhh! To be done with that literature review is the sweetest feeling I've known in about one month's time. It was 17 pages of gold...well, not really. But it was 17 pages.
In other news, I keep writing zingers to B. Man oh man, if I do say so myself, when I'm going through stuff, I write very well. We gchatted and it was the first time we talked about the break up. He brought it up, saying that now that we're no longer together (whose fault is that, o senhor?) he needs to get out of Boston at least once-monthly. He didn't set up these trips when we were together. I then said aww, and told him I'd had a dream about him, and we were broken up in the dream.
He asked what happened. Why, I don't know, so I told him.
This is a true story.
In the dream, we were sitting together on the ground...either on the floor of my apartment or outside (I can't remember which). I didn't set up this part. Anyway, we were drawing a D on a piece of paper. And he mentioned something he wanted for "our kids." And then I reminded him that they were just his kids, that they weren't our kids anymore. And then he said, "Oh."
His gchat response? "I see."
I mean, dude, you asked! He knows my dreams very well by now. The first one that he was in, we switched genders, and he became the girl and I was the guy. Heh, he hated that dream, but it was because of his lack of taking initiative, something that I guess by being in a relationship with me he realized that he needed to do...
But anyway, I wrote him this awesome email that I would post, but since this thing is searchable I feel like I would increase the chance of him finding this site, if he hasn't already. But I liked it.
And after I wrote it, I just felt...even better than I'd already been feeling upon returning to Boston from my spring break. I felt relieved to talk about some of the things that I did with him, things that I felt like he should know. I illustrated him explicitly the process I'm going through to remove the little reminders of him from me, the way that he'd become enmeshed in my life. If we're going to be "friends," I can't have any secrets eating at me. By openly talking about us no longer being together, it gave me a voice to talk about how hard it was for me and that, even now, as I begin to move from my apartment, if I find small reminders of him here or there, it will give me pause, and I will reflect on it with a little sadness.
But then I said that it's little sadness that makes samba sweet. Then I hit him with the words of a samba that he liked from Djavan, when we went to the Djavan concert in one of our early outtings.
Mas não sei o que fez tudo mudar de vez. Onde foi que eu errei. Eu só sei que amei, que amei, que amei, que amei...
Which translates to, "But I don't know what happened for everything to change suddenly. Where did I make the mistake? I only know that I loved, that I loved, that I loved, that I loved..."
And I told him that I was glad that I loved, and the little bit of sadness makes my life more like samba, one of my preferred art forms.
A bit much? That wasn't the only thing that I included in the email, so it was even more.
But yes, this is Wednesday Word vomit...and I feel so relieved to get it all out!
I don't have class tomorrow, so I'll probably go in to my practicum site at 9:30am to meet with my lady at 10am. I'll get some work done for my practicum class as well as I'll work on my project a little bit, and then I plan to head home in the afternoon.
The bottom line of all of this is...there's a lot more work left to do for my practicum and this is only the tip of the iceberg, but at least I have two days of no class to do work, that I would take B back if I were convinced that he had direction in his life and that we could spiritually line up, but I'm unconvinced, so I'm not taking him back...and I'm back on the market!
Hahaha, this is a little tongue in cheek, but do any of you readers know of some brothers that may be interested? Or if you're brothers, are you interested? If so, there's another Muslimah available!
...emotionally, mentally and spiritually available for the first time maybe since I was 19, really.
End vomit.
Although I avoided making this thing student-y inasmuch as possible, I must say...aaaaahhh! To be done with that literature review is the sweetest feeling I've known in about one month's time. It was 17 pages of gold...well, not really. But it was 17 pages.
In other news, I keep writing zingers to B. Man oh man, if I do say so myself, when I'm going through stuff, I write very well. We gchatted and it was the first time we talked about the break up. He brought it up, saying that now that we're no longer together (whose fault is that, o senhor?) he needs to get out of Boston at least once-monthly. He didn't set up these trips when we were together. I then said aww, and told him I'd had a dream about him, and we were broken up in the dream.
He asked what happened. Why, I don't know, so I told him.
This is a true story.
In the dream, we were sitting together on the ground...either on the floor of my apartment or outside (I can't remember which). I didn't set up this part. Anyway, we were drawing a D on a piece of paper. And he mentioned something he wanted for "our kids." And then I reminded him that they were just his kids, that they weren't our kids anymore. And then he said, "Oh."
His gchat response? "I see."
I mean, dude, you asked! He knows my dreams very well by now. The first one that he was in, we switched genders, and he became the girl and I was the guy. Heh, he hated that dream, but it was because of his lack of taking initiative, something that I guess by being in a relationship with me he realized that he needed to do...
But anyway, I wrote him this awesome email that I would post, but since this thing is searchable I feel like I would increase the chance of him finding this site, if he hasn't already. But I liked it.
And after I wrote it, I just felt...even better than I'd already been feeling upon returning to Boston from my spring break. I felt relieved to talk about some of the things that I did with him, things that I felt like he should know. I illustrated him explicitly the process I'm going through to remove the little reminders of him from me, the way that he'd become enmeshed in my life. If we're going to be "friends," I can't have any secrets eating at me. By openly talking about us no longer being together, it gave me a voice to talk about how hard it was for me and that, even now, as I begin to move from my apartment, if I find small reminders of him here or there, it will give me pause, and I will reflect on it with a little sadness.
But then I said that it's little sadness that makes samba sweet. Then I hit him with the words of a samba that he liked from Djavan, when we went to the Djavan concert in one of our early outtings.
Mas não sei o que fez tudo mudar de vez. Onde foi que eu errei. Eu só sei que amei, que amei, que amei, que amei...
Which translates to, "But I don't know what happened for everything to change suddenly. Where did I make the mistake? I only know that I loved, that I loved, that I loved, that I loved..."
And I told him that I was glad that I loved, and the little bit of sadness makes my life more like samba, one of my preferred art forms.
A bit much? That wasn't the only thing that I included in the email, so it was even more.
But yes, this is Wednesday Word vomit...and I feel so relieved to get it all out!
I don't have class tomorrow, so I'll probably go in to my practicum site at 9:30am to meet with my lady at 10am. I'll get some work done for my practicum class as well as I'll work on my project a little bit, and then I plan to head home in the afternoon.
The bottom line of all of this is...there's a lot more work left to do for my practicum and this is only the tip of the iceberg, but at least I have two days of no class to do work, that I would take B back if I were convinced that he had direction in his life and that we could spiritually line up, but I'm unconvinced, so I'm not taking him back...and I'm back on the market!
Hahaha, this is a little tongue in cheek, but do any of you readers know of some brothers that may be interested? Or if you're brothers, are you interested? If so, there's another Muslimah available!
...emotionally, mentally and spiritually available for the first time maybe since I was 19, really.
End vomit.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Just Crazy
As salaam alaikum,
This has been the song of the day. It pretty much explains my reflection right now. Simple. Succinct. Not overly emotional, just sentimental enough. Repetitive like the thoughts are, captures the quiet astonishment. Dori Caymmi, "Só Louco."
Just crazy
He loved like I loved
Just crazy
He wanted the good that I wanted
Ah, foolish heart!
Why did you make me suffer?
Because to understand love
It's necessary to love?
Why?
Just crazy...
Amei! Hahaha, literally!
In other news, I sent B a final email, and I vowed not to contact him for a while, because I don't think it's actually helping me as I thought it would. However, I said everything I wanted to say, and I think that's sufficient for now. He's read it, no doubt, but he's not going to respond. I think weeks without seeing each other will be a good thing, not only so he understands what it's like to not have me in his life anymore but for me to be able to get back to a good baseline completely without too many residual feelings.
My hands are really dry. I need lotion.
In other, other news...Rep. Peter King? I haven't had energy to follow that fiasco. Achoo! I'm allergic to posturing. I will inform myself by catching up with the Daily Show and Colbert tomorrow, after I finish my last exam of the quarter. Two and a half months and I'm back to medical school...
And the struggle continues.
This has been the song of the day. It pretty much explains my reflection right now. Simple. Succinct. Not overly emotional, just sentimental enough. Repetitive like the thoughts are, captures the quiet astonishment. Dori Caymmi, "Só Louco."
Just crazy
He loved like I loved
Just crazy
He wanted the good that I wanted
Ah, foolish heart!
Why did you make me suffer?
Because to understand love
It's necessary to love?
Why?
Just crazy...
Amei! Hahaha, literally!
In other news, I sent B a final email, and I vowed not to contact him for a while, because I don't think it's actually helping me as I thought it would. However, I said everything I wanted to say, and I think that's sufficient for now. He's read it, no doubt, but he's not going to respond. I think weeks without seeing each other will be a good thing, not only so he understands what it's like to not have me in his life anymore but for me to be able to get back to a good baseline completely without too many residual feelings.
My hands are really dry. I need lotion.
In other, other news...Rep. Peter King? I haven't had energy to follow that fiasco. Achoo! I'm allergic to posturing. I will inform myself by catching up with the Daily Show and Colbert tomorrow, after I finish my last exam of the quarter. Two and a half months and I'm back to medical school...
And the struggle continues.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Nem me deixava morar no seu azul
(You never let me live in your blue)
As salaam alaikum,
So yes, no lies. I'm no longer with B.
On Saturday, I was numb. On Sunday, I cried. On Monday, I talked and typed and talked with people through it. By the nightfall, I was angry.
And I still am angry. I'm mostly angry at him.
But it's going to be a while before I caio na conversa of another man. To change my ways for a man. To start forming my life and adapting my beliefs to fit in a world with another man.
But there's one thing I'm not angry about. I made sure not to lose myself or lose my Islam. I made exceptions to former ways that I wanted to be, yes, primarily just with the fact of being in a relationship with someone who believed in God but was not Muslim. But I never said, therefore, I am no longer Muslim.
Islam is something that is mine, and for the time, it wasn't shared between us, but I figured that a key step we'd have to go down was letting him know what spirituality was for my life, how he fit into my life with that, the way that I planned to live, etc.
But hah, we didn't have to go through that before I was dumped. On my rump. Bump bump bump.
I've wrote volumes about the breakup elsewhere. I don't feel like doing it now, just to acknowledge that it existed. I still don't regret that it all happened. It was a transition phase for me, it taught me things, and I enjoyed having that companionship for the while I did. Back to being a Single Muslimah down for the cause, full throttle! I'm ready, baby!
But one thing I must admit that saved me through this whole process...well, several things did. But one thing at the base was...I loved him but I never let myself go too far. He wasn't giving me at a point anything to make my feelings for him go farther. For me, we were still just in the beginning stages. We still needed to get to know each other.
I never felt like that Elis Regina song, "Só Tinha de Ser Com Você." It only had to be with you. Because I was realizing as he was realizing...he wasn't the one, and I wasn't it, respectively.
Especially that part, "Você que é feito de azul, me deixa morar nesse azul. Me deixa encontrar minha paz..." You who are made of blue, you let me live in this blue. You let me find my peace.
I was never fully at peace. He never let me live in his world. Nem me deixava morar no seu azul. You never let me live in your blue.
He doesn't let people into his life easily. That's fine. That's whatever.
In the meantime, I need to clarify my spiritual direction in life. It's time for me to fast and pray...
As salaam alaikum,
So yes, no lies. I'm no longer with B.
On Saturday, I was numb. On Sunday, I cried. On Monday, I talked and typed and talked with people through it. By the nightfall, I was angry.
And I still am angry. I'm mostly angry at him.
But it's going to be a while before I caio na conversa of another man. To change my ways for a man. To start forming my life and adapting my beliefs to fit in a world with another man.
But there's one thing I'm not angry about. I made sure not to lose myself or lose my Islam. I made exceptions to former ways that I wanted to be, yes, primarily just with the fact of being in a relationship with someone who believed in God but was not Muslim. But I never said, therefore, I am no longer Muslim.
Islam is something that is mine, and for the time, it wasn't shared between us, but I figured that a key step we'd have to go down was letting him know what spirituality was for my life, how he fit into my life with that, the way that I planned to live, etc.
But hah, we didn't have to go through that before I was dumped. On my rump. Bump bump bump.
I've wrote volumes about the breakup elsewhere. I don't feel like doing it now, just to acknowledge that it existed. I still don't regret that it all happened. It was a transition phase for me, it taught me things, and I enjoyed having that companionship for the while I did. Back to being a Single Muslimah down for the cause, full throttle! I'm ready, baby!
But one thing I must admit that saved me through this whole process...well, several things did. But one thing at the base was...I loved him but I never let myself go too far. He wasn't giving me at a point anything to make my feelings for him go farther. For me, we were still just in the beginning stages. We still needed to get to know each other.
I never felt like that Elis Regina song, "Só Tinha de Ser Com Você." It only had to be with you. Because I was realizing as he was realizing...he wasn't the one, and I wasn't it, respectively.
Especially that part, "Você que é feito de azul, me deixa morar nesse azul. Me deixa encontrar minha paz..." You who are made of blue, you let me live in this blue. You let me find my peace.
I was never fully at peace. He never let me live in his world. Nem me deixava morar no seu azul. You never let me live in your blue.
He doesn't let people into his life easily. That's fine. That's whatever.
In the meantime, I need to clarify my spiritual direction in life. It's time for me to fast and pray...
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Elis Regina
As salaam alaikum,
Her songs are perhaps made more poignant knowing that she died at the age of 36 after battling years of depression and bouts of substance abuse. Even without that knowledge, listening to her voice, the sheer emotion that she injects into a song, and when so lucky, watching her perform on stage, gesticulating, dancing, doing her squinting-wide smile and laughing as she plays with the chorus and the lyrics...there is just nothing like experiencing songs as performed by Elis Regina.
I sing her "Aguas de Março" now as my default. In RMD, I imagine it as 18-year-old Desirée's theme song (as opposed to 15-year-old Desirée's "Sina" by Djavan). I barely knew of her when I heard her version of "Corcovado" with Tom Jobim and loved how the female singer enunciated each word, but I didn't know who she was. Then, while I was in Brazil, the first novela I saw when I returned from work in São Paulo was (what I discovered later was the remake of) "Ciranda de Pedra."
I watched the opening credits of the show and I was entranced, not only because the choreography was interesting for a period novel, but because of the song. See for yourself:
Saudades total! I hear this, and I'm back in my little room in my pousada in Sampa in the winter, turning it on unknowingly to the all-powerful Globo and the novela das seis, wondering what I'm doing here in this country whose language I hardly speak. The feelings come back and I tear up a little...what a beautiful experience life is!
It was through discovering this song, "Redescobrir," (Rediscover), that I rediscovered Elis Regina, A Pimintinha (little pepper), A Furacão (The Hurricane).
I then found that she did a version of my favorite song, "Aguas de Março," and I slowly discovered some of her other songs. Slowly, because I have the tendency to find songs that I like and just listen to them for weeks before branching out and finding new songs.
So this weekend, as I was playing around with GrooveShark, I made a playlist of Elis' songs. So far, I am really loyal to ones I've heard before...but then there was this song that I've heard and liked by Lô Borges and I'd never heard the version that she does.
And as 70s as the music accompaniment is, her voice is timeless. I love that version of the song...it has supplanted all other versions for me. Such passion, such energy, it's some of the best of Elis I've heard.
The song? "O Trem Azul," or "The Blue Train."
Here's the translation of the lyrics:
Things that we forget to say
Phrases that the wind comes sometimes to remind me
Things that remained a long time without being said
The song of the wind doesn't tire of soaring
You take the blue train
The sun on your head
The sun hits the blue train
You in my head
The sun in my head
The chorus is a cooler play on words in Portuguese:
Você pega o trem azul
O sol na cabeça
O sol pega o trem azul
Você na cabeça
O sol na cabeça
Adorei!
I read one of the comments. It translates to the following:
"I remember that the first time that I heard this song with Elis' voice I almost went mad. Even though I had heard the original, when I heard her and with that choir at the end, really, I cried."
Yes. Que emoção!
People say her daughter, Maria Rita, may be, in fact, a better singer than her mother. I do like some of Maria Rita's music, and she may be technically a better singer, but nothing will replace the passionate phrasing of her mother, and it's not fair for either of them to make that comparison.
Elis will always be one of my favorites because she sings songs the way that I want to live my passions in this life...full, fleshy, deliberate, meticulous, purposefully haphazard, casually in love with abandon.
Love is like this. It's like rediscovering the wonderful that life is that we learn as a child and are convinced that we're forced to forget as adults. Eu vou redescobrindo...
Her songs are perhaps made more poignant knowing that she died at the age of 36 after battling years of depression and bouts of substance abuse. Even without that knowledge, listening to her voice, the sheer emotion that she injects into a song, and when so lucky, watching her perform on stage, gesticulating, dancing, doing her squinting-wide smile and laughing as she plays with the chorus and the lyrics...there is just nothing like experiencing songs as performed by Elis Regina.
I sing her "Aguas de Março" now as my default. In RMD, I imagine it as 18-year-old Desirée's theme song (as opposed to 15-year-old Desirée's "Sina" by Djavan). I barely knew of her when I heard her version of "Corcovado" with Tom Jobim and loved how the female singer enunciated each word, but I didn't know who she was. Then, while I was in Brazil, the first novela I saw when I returned from work in São Paulo was (what I discovered later was the remake of) "Ciranda de Pedra."
I watched the opening credits of the show and I was entranced, not only because the choreography was interesting for a period novel, but because of the song. See for yourself:
Saudades total! I hear this, and I'm back in my little room in my pousada in Sampa in the winter, turning it on unknowingly to the all-powerful Globo and the novela das seis, wondering what I'm doing here in this country whose language I hardly speak. The feelings come back and I tear up a little...what a beautiful experience life is!
It was through discovering this song, "Redescobrir," (Rediscover), that I rediscovered Elis Regina, A Pimintinha (little pepper), A Furacão (The Hurricane).
I then found that she did a version of my favorite song, "Aguas de Março," and I slowly discovered some of her other songs. Slowly, because I have the tendency to find songs that I like and just listen to them for weeks before branching out and finding new songs.
So this weekend, as I was playing around with GrooveShark, I made a playlist of Elis' songs. So far, I am really loyal to ones I've heard before...but then there was this song that I've heard and liked by Lô Borges and I'd never heard the version that she does.
And as 70s as the music accompaniment is, her voice is timeless. I love that version of the song...it has supplanted all other versions for me. Such passion, such energy, it's some of the best of Elis I've heard.
The song? "O Trem Azul," or "The Blue Train."
Here's the translation of the lyrics:
Things that we forget to say
Phrases that the wind comes sometimes to remind me
Things that remained a long time without being said
The song of the wind doesn't tire of soaring
You take the blue train
The sun on your head
The sun hits the blue train
You in my head
The sun in my head
The chorus is a cooler play on words in Portuguese:
Você pega o trem azul
O sol na cabeça
O sol pega o trem azul
Você na cabeça
O sol na cabeça
Adorei!
I read one of the comments. It translates to the following:
"I remember that the first time that I heard this song with Elis' voice I almost went mad. Even though I had heard the original, when I heard her and with that choir at the end, really, I cried."
Yes. Que emoção!
People say her daughter, Maria Rita, may be, in fact, a better singer than her mother. I do like some of Maria Rita's music, and she may be technically a better singer, but nothing will replace the passionate phrasing of her mother, and it's not fair for either of them to make that comparison.
Elis will always be one of my favorites because she sings songs the way that I want to live my passions in this life...full, fleshy, deliberate, meticulous, purposefully haphazard, casually in love with abandon.
Love is like this. It's like rediscovering the wonderful that life is that we learn as a child and are convinced that we're forced to forget as adults. Eu vou redescobrindo...
Friday, January 14, 2011
[uncensored]: Love / Haiti
As salaam alaikum,
So...I love him. Who? B. Yep. That's all.
Yesterday, I was so inspired, since I didn't have any reading for my Community Health Centers class, to translate the lyrics to the song, "Haiti" by Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil. So I did. It's probably rough in parts because I don't understand nearly any of the references in the third stanza. All with the help of Google translate.
Here's my favorite version of the song--the long version with Caetano Veloso only:
And here are the lyrics:
And it doesn’t matter if the eyes of the whole world
Could, for a moment, rewind to a time
Where slaves were punished
And today, a drumming, a drumming
With the purity of uniformed high school kids
On the day of a parade
And the epic grandeur of a developing people
Attracts us, dazzles us, stimulates us
And on TV if you see a congressman in ill-concealed panic
Presenting any, but really any, any, any
Education plan
111 defenseless prisoners, but prisoners are almost all black
Or almost black, or almost white/almost black that are the same poorAnd the poor are like the rotten and everyone knows how blacks are treated
And when you go, turn towards the Caribbean
And when you fuck without a condom
And submit your intelligent participation in the blockade of Cuba...
Think of Haiti, pray for Haiti
Haiti is here
Haiti is not here
*Jorge Amado was a Brazilian author whose works dealt mainly with the poor black/mulatto populations of Bahia. His estate is preserved in Salvador and its supposed to promote the culture of Bahia.
** Fantastico is a popular Brazilian newsmagazine that shows up on their superchannel, Globo. It's like a week-in-review.
*** Pelo is a neighborhood in Salvador (as it's known to people in Bahia) that is a popular tourist attraction. It's the Historic Center of the Salvador, one where slaves were publicly beaten. The neighborhood is home to the first slave market on the continent.
****Leblon is the richest neighborhood in Rio. That's why the trash bag is glossy. It has the highest property values in all of Latin America.
I love B because I can translate this song, send him these lyrics, and he'll absolutely appreciate this more than anyone else I know. This is from an email I sent him yesterday. And of course, that's not the only thing...but it's little things like this that make us realize how much we make sense...
Keep me in your du'as!
So...I love him. Who? B. Yep. That's all.
Yesterday, I was so inspired, since I didn't have any reading for my Community Health Centers class, to translate the lyrics to the song, "Haiti" by Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil. So I did. It's probably rough in parts because I don't understand nearly any of the references in the third stanza. All with the help of Google translate.
Here's my favorite version of the song--the long version with Caetano Veloso only:
And here are the lyrics:
If you’re ever invited to ascend up to the courtyard
Of the House of Jorge Amado Foundation*
Of the House of Jorge Amado Foundation*
To see the front row of soldiers, almost all black
Wringing the necks of black delinquents,
Of mulatto thieves and others, almost white
Wringing the necks of black delinquents,
Of mulatto thieves and others, almost white
Treated like blacks
Just to show the other almost-blacks,
(And they’re almost all black)
And the poor almost whites like blacks
How it is that blacks, the poor and mulattoes,
And the almost white/almost black that the same poor, are treated
Just to show the other almost-blacks,
(And they’re almost all black)
And the poor almost whites like blacks
How it is that blacks, the poor and mulattoes,
And the almost white/almost black that the same poor, are treated
And it doesn’t matter if the eyes of the whole world
Could, for a moment, rewind to a time
Where slaves were punished
And today, a drumming, a drumming
With the purity of uniformed high school kids
On the day of a parade
And the epic grandeur of a developing people
Attracts us, dazzles us, stimulates us
Nothing matters:
Not the trace of excess
Nor the lens of Fantástico**,
Nor a Paul Simon CD
Nobody, nobody is a citizen
If you are going to see the party in Pelô***, and even if you’re not
Not the trace of excess
Nor the lens of Fantástico**,
Nor a Paul Simon CD
Nobody, nobody is a citizen
If you are going to see the party in Pelô***, and even if you’re not
Think of Haiti, pray for Haiti
Haiti is here
Haiti is not here
Haiti is here
Haiti is not here
And on TV if you see a congressman in ill-concealed panic
Presenting any, but really any, any, any
Education plan
That sounds easy
That seems easy and fast
And it will represent a threat to democracy
On primary school level
And if that same congressman defends the adoption of capital punishment
And the venerable Cardinal says he sees so much spirit in the fetus
And none in the criminal
And if, while running the light, the old light, red, habitual
You notice a man pissing on the street corner over a glossy bag of garbage from Leblon****
And when you hear the smiling silence of São Paulo
That seems easy and fast
And it will represent a threat to democracy
On primary school level
And if that same congressman defends the adoption of capital punishment
And the venerable Cardinal says he sees so much spirit in the fetus
And none in the criminal
And if, while running the light, the old light, red, habitual
You notice a man pissing on the street corner over a glossy bag of garbage from Leblon****
And when you hear the smiling silence of São Paulo
Before the massacre:
111 defenseless prisoners, but prisoners are almost all black
Or almost black, or almost white/almost black that are the same poor
And when you go, turn towards the Caribbean
And when you fuck without a condom
And submit your intelligent participation in the blockade of Cuba...
Think of Haiti, pray for Haiti
Haiti is here
Haiti is not here
*Jorge Amado was a Brazilian author whose works dealt mainly with the poor black/mulatto populations of Bahia. His estate is preserved in Salvador and its supposed to promote the culture of Bahia.
** Fantastico is a popular Brazilian newsmagazine that shows up on their superchannel, Globo. It's like a week-in-review.
*** Pelo is a neighborhood in Salvador (as it's known to people in Bahia) that is a popular tourist attraction. It's the Historic Center of the Salvador, one where slaves were publicly beaten. The neighborhood is home to the first slave market on the continent.
****Leblon is the richest neighborhood in Rio. That's why the trash bag is glossy. It has the highest property values in all of Latin America.
I love B because I can translate this song, send him these lyrics, and he'll absolutely appreciate this more than anyone else I know. This is from an email I sent him yesterday. And of course, that's not the only thing...but it's little things like this that make us realize how much we make sense...
Keep me in your du'as!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Samba de Orly
As salaam alaikum,
So, I haven't been posting nearly as much. It's not just B, but otherwise, life has been busy. I had finals this week which weren't difficult but did take up an appreciable amount of time. I have a few ideas for entries in the future, but for now, I'll leave you what has become the theme for the end of this semester of my public health program. It's Chico Buarque and Toquinho's "Samba de Orly."
I'm back at my grandparents house right now watching "I Am Legend."
So, I haven't been posting nearly as much. It's not just B, but otherwise, life has been busy. I had finals this week which weren't difficult but did take up an appreciable amount of time. I have a few ideas for entries in the future, but for now, I'll leave you what has become the theme for the end of this semester of my public health program. It's Chico Buarque and Toquinho's "Samba de Orly."
I'm back at my grandparents house right now watching "I Am Legend."
Friday, December 3, 2010
[uncensored]: For the Longest Time
As salaam alaikum,
{Currently listening: For the Longest Time - Billy Joel}
I've always heard this song, and wondered what it was. I knew it wasn't actually made in the 60s for some reason, but it's a pretty good reproduction of the sound...although I think some key musical elements that were prevalent during that time period are left out, which made it seem not as authentic. Billy Joel's phrasing also isn't the greatest, but hey, neither is mine, and I like my own singing.
So a while ago, because of my knew relationship, I had said that music didn't sound the same. It's interesting--it doesn't, and it's still morphing. I went through a period of apprehension where no music sounded good, a period of doubt and fear where I would not listen to music, and then, last night, I felt compelled to listen to Love's Train by ConFunkShun, one of my old favorites.
And then I remembered. Back sophomore year of college in the heyday of MQ, I heard this song and felt it was how I felt about him. "Warm night, can't sleep / too hurt, too weak / gotta call him up. Dial that number / no one answers 'til 2 o'clock. And if by chance, you'll let me come over / out on the street, I wanna see you, baby..." And there I'd be, wistfully before the dorm where I knew he lived, wishing I hadn't declined his invitation to visit him at his room for my propriety because, what, I was only just now becoming Muslim, anyway, it shouldn't have been that important for me...
...and then I heard it again last night, and I had to struggle for that memory. I now identified the song with how I felt now...well, heh, except for the fact that the song is, on the low, about a booty call and yeah, nobody's booty calling...
And I realize, oh my gosh...I didn't think I could feel this way about anyone else.
I listen to love songs now and it's different. It's not a wistfulness, it's not a distant admiration of the beauty of a form, it's...this is happening, this is how I imagined it would be, but now I feel it, and while brain and gut has foresight, heart has no foresight into sensation.
I hate to sound smarmy right now, but...I feel more human than I ever have.
This is not to say that not having had mutual love makes you less human, no. This is just me. For me, I've always felt left out a little bit in not having felt this what so many others have. I am coming to empathize with an entire realm of human experience that I've never had access to. It was like going to Brazil and loving the culture and being able to speak Portuguese but not being Brazilian. Entering into this is like...getting my Brazilian citizenship. It may not be the greatest place to be or the most morally right place to be, but a lot of people attest to it, love it, salute it, wave a flag to it...swear by it, curse it, write song after song about it...
This morning, I sent B an email with Deve Ser by Jorge Vercillo. I didn't send him the translation (which I actually posted here), because if I did, man, it's pretty much what I feel right now, and I've never been that frank with anyone.
I've never told anyone that I loved them. I think I whispered it to one of my cousins when they were a baby once...but my parents, no. Not because I'm a cold bitch or anything, but because...we just don't do that. Each of my parents have probably told me once each...my mother maybe twice, maybe the second time she wrinkled her nose and made a gagging sound in disgust. Not that we don't love each other. I mean, no. My mother is my best friend. I love my family more than anyone on this earth, anything. But when I go home, I sit at my mother's feet as she eats. I call my father all sorts of alternate father pet names, from Daddy to Dadi, from papá to papai, and I want to be everything he wants me to be, even though I can't be, just to make him happy. My brother is my life when I'm really quiet and I realize myself.
I love them, but I've never said that to anyone, so I'm not sure when to do it...I'm Not in Love, but I realize that someday soon I'll be there, and wow...it'll be crazy to say it.
Muslims, my dear Muslim friends, don't think I'm abandoning the deen, that I'm disbelieving in God, because B isn't Muslim. Because of my background and my love for my father, I have to take an alternative road. I'm not saying that I won't marry Muslim, but I'm also not saying that I won't marry B, because insha'Allah (and yes, I feel okay invoking God's name), yes, that's where I'm going. That's all I'm saying. I'm going forth prayerfully.
But anyway, I'm curious if other music sounds different. Other songs that used to remind me of MQ, other songs that I used to listen to and wonder if I'd ever feel that way. The big one was Overjoyed by Stevie Wonder. It was my theme for unrequited love. Now, now...I don't know. It feels like the reprise. I think the song meant so much to me at the time, it's always going to be colored by that experience. To associate it with B would make it feel...recycled, unauthentic. That song is so 2004 for me.
I think there are a lot of songs in my repertoire that were unrequited love songs...the thing is, songs that aren't are sounding different to me...but very specifically to the stage I am right now.
Songs and poetry are very worldly things, yes, but I guess I always loved it because it helped me share in human experience, helped me love my fellow human being and love for him or her what I love for myself...you know, and actually feel it, and not just because I'm supposed to.
I love that I'm going through a series of feelings that so many others have felt before--culturally specific feelings, yes, mixed up in carnality? Certainly. Therefore haram. Depending on the context, yes, but no less human. We all self-regulate as we will, but there's something about realizing the humanity of what you're feeling, connecting with that common human experience...which gives you the agency to draw your own thresholds.
You feel this, this is beautiful, because you're human, and Allah (swt) created you. But as a human, He commands you, what you should and should not do, because of this, your nature, that He well knows, that He well created.
Like my mother said, lighting a fire outside of the hearth. Like Earth Wind and Fire sang, Reasons.
I'm just blabbing now and suddenly not feeling as sentimental. It might be PMS, actually. I'll leave it with this. A few weeks before B happened, I thought of this song, Nega Música by Itamar Assumpção, and I thought about how I was like, one day, this will be true for me...it's written about a woman, so I'll change the gender. "When you least expect it, [he]'ll arrive doing with your heart what [he] does well. And [he]'ll come loving you without fear... When you least expect it, [he]'ll touch the depths of your heart, just as a [man] can. And [he]'ll come loving you without fear..."
Não, não, não, não, não...
{Currently listening: For the Longest Time - Billy Joel}
I've always heard this song, and wondered what it was. I knew it wasn't actually made in the 60s for some reason, but it's a pretty good reproduction of the sound...although I think some key musical elements that were prevalent during that time period are left out, which made it seem not as authentic. Billy Joel's phrasing also isn't the greatest, but hey, neither is mine, and I like my own singing.
So a while ago, because of my knew relationship, I had said that music didn't sound the same. It's interesting--it doesn't, and it's still morphing. I went through a period of apprehension where no music sounded good, a period of doubt and fear where I would not listen to music, and then, last night, I felt compelled to listen to Love's Train by ConFunkShun, one of my old favorites.
And then I remembered. Back sophomore year of college in the heyday of MQ, I heard this song and felt it was how I felt about him. "Warm night, can't sleep / too hurt, too weak / gotta call him up. Dial that number / no one answers 'til 2 o'clock. And if by chance, you'll let me come over / out on the street, I wanna see you, baby..." And there I'd be, wistfully before the dorm where I knew he lived, wishing I hadn't declined his invitation to visit him at his room for my propriety because, what, I was only just now becoming Muslim, anyway, it shouldn't have been that important for me...
...and then I heard it again last night, and I had to struggle for that memory. I now identified the song with how I felt now...well, heh, except for the fact that the song is, on the low, about a booty call and yeah, nobody's booty calling...
And I realize, oh my gosh...I didn't think I could feel this way about anyone else.
I listen to love songs now and it's different. It's not a wistfulness, it's not a distant admiration of the beauty of a form, it's...this is happening, this is how I imagined it would be, but now I feel it, and while brain and gut has foresight, heart has no foresight into sensation.
I hate to sound smarmy right now, but...I feel more human than I ever have.
This is not to say that not having had mutual love makes you less human, no. This is just me. For me, I've always felt left out a little bit in not having felt this what so many others have. I am coming to empathize with an entire realm of human experience that I've never had access to. It was like going to Brazil and loving the culture and being able to speak Portuguese but not being Brazilian. Entering into this is like...getting my Brazilian citizenship. It may not be the greatest place to be or the most morally right place to be, but a lot of people attest to it, love it, salute it, wave a flag to it...swear by it, curse it, write song after song about it...
This morning, I sent B an email with Deve Ser by Jorge Vercillo. I didn't send him the translation (which I actually posted here), because if I did, man, it's pretty much what I feel right now, and I've never been that frank with anyone.
I've never told anyone that I loved them. I think I whispered it to one of my cousins when they were a baby once...but my parents, no. Not because I'm a cold bitch or anything, but because...we just don't do that. Each of my parents have probably told me once each...my mother maybe twice, maybe the second time she wrinkled her nose and made a gagging sound in disgust. Not that we don't love each other. I mean, no. My mother is my best friend. I love my family more than anyone on this earth, anything. But when I go home, I sit at my mother's feet as she eats. I call my father all sorts of alternate father pet names, from Daddy to Dadi, from papá to papai, and I want to be everything he wants me to be, even though I can't be, just to make him happy. My brother is my life when I'm really quiet and I realize myself.
I love them, but I've never said that to anyone, so I'm not sure when to do it...I'm Not in Love, but I realize that someday soon I'll be there, and wow...it'll be crazy to say it.
Muslims, my dear Muslim friends, don't think I'm abandoning the deen, that I'm disbelieving in God, because B isn't Muslim. Because of my background and my love for my father, I have to take an alternative road. I'm not saying that I won't marry Muslim, but I'm also not saying that I won't marry B, because insha'Allah (and yes, I feel okay invoking God's name), yes, that's where I'm going. That's all I'm saying. I'm going forth prayerfully.
But anyway, I'm curious if other music sounds different. Other songs that used to remind me of MQ, other songs that I used to listen to and wonder if I'd ever feel that way. The big one was Overjoyed by Stevie Wonder. It was my theme for unrequited love. Now, now...I don't know. It feels like the reprise. I think the song meant so much to me at the time, it's always going to be colored by that experience. To associate it with B would make it feel...recycled, unauthentic. That song is so 2004 for me.
I think there are a lot of songs in my repertoire that were unrequited love songs...the thing is, songs that aren't are sounding different to me...but very specifically to the stage I am right now.
Songs and poetry are very worldly things, yes, but I guess I always loved it because it helped me share in human experience, helped me love my fellow human being and love for him or her what I love for myself...you know, and actually feel it, and not just because I'm supposed to.
I love that I'm going through a series of feelings that so many others have felt before--culturally specific feelings, yes, mixed up in carnality? Certainly. Therefore haram. Depending on the context, yes, but no less human. We all self-regulate as we will, but there's something about realizing the humanity of what you're feeling, connecting with that common human experience...which gives you the agency to draw your own thresholds.
You feel this, this is beautiful, because you're human, and Allah (swt) created you. But as a human, He commands you, what you should and should not do, because of this, your nature, that He well knows, that He well created.
Like my mother said, lighting a fire outside of the hearth. Like Earth Wind and Fire sang, Reasons.
I'm just blabbing now and suddenly not feeling as sentimental. It might be PMS, actually. I'll leave it with this. A few weeks before B happened, I thought of this song, Nega Música by Itamar Assumpção, and I thought about how I was like, one day, this will be true for me...it's written about a woman, so I'll change the gender. "When you least expect it, [he]'ll arrive doing with your heart what [he] does well. And [he]'ll come loving you without fear... When you least expect it, [he]'ll touch the depths of your heart, just as a [man] can. And [he]'ll come loving you without fear..."
Não, não, não, não, não...
Saturday, October 30, 2010
A Rose Much Desired is Almost Done!
As salaam alaikum,
After getting stuck on a chapter that turned out to be more important than I thought, to preserve a character that was more critical than I at first expected...I am a chapter and a half away from finishing the first full-length story that I've written as an adult. Yay!
B wants to read it. I've already given him hints, but he doesn't want to be spoiled. That's exciting, but I'm also a little nervous for him to read it, because if he only knew how much of it (especially the Desirée narration) was thinly veiled fiction, then he would instantly know tons of stuff about me.
At the same time, I'm not too concerned. I'm not worried about him knowing tons of stuff about me.
I think I'm going to go back to samba today after a two week hiatus after I twisted my ankle three weeks ago. It was a mild twist that just exacerbated an old injury, but samba for sure would have killed it. I think I'll wrap my ankle just in case, but I need to get moving again. I've also had a two week hiatus from the gym, and although I've been good at maintaining my weight so far, this week I've been a little bit of a lazy eater so it's time to get back to moving, now.
B at this time should be in DC, heading toward the rally. I would have gone, but none of my friends are going, and I figured it'd be too much if we rode the 10 hours roundtrip together, then I'd cramp his style as he was hanging out with one of his old friends. I mean, we're friends-ish, but I'm still a girl he's trying to impress, kind of, and it wouldn't be as comfortable, maybe. I don't know, I make excuses, but also I'm tired and I need to clean up my life. Tons of papers from fall 1 quarter are all around my room and I need to go ahead and put them into the binders I bought two months ago.
Yes, but RMD is almost done! Alhamdulillah! I'm going to proof it once more (because I'm OCD like that) before I give it to a couple of family members to read through. I'm nervous about this...I'm nervous that they'll say certain aspects aren't realistic, are over-the-top, or ask me why I would write about such material. We'll see. I, personally, like it a lot, but then again, I'm me.
And from there, I'm going to figure out how to get it published. A couple of my cousins are self-publishing, but I kind of want to find an agent and go from there.
But preview! I can only preview the first 120 pages or so, because around that time, the twist (!!) happens, so I don't want to give that away. But man, it's been a while since I read the first part...even though I wrote it, I forget exactly what happens. So I'm providing an excerpt. This is when Mo, very upset because he's not yet gotten into medical school, among other things, ventures over to Nisreen's apartment during her spring break, desiring to talk to somebody while all his friends are away during the break:
I have tons of reading to do this weekend, and biostats homework. I plan to do the bulk of those tomorrow, returning home in time to get all spiffed up for the Djavan concert (!!) on Sunday. I'm taking B...literally, because I bought the tickets with my WorldMusic membership. Unlike two years ago, I know a few more of Djavan's songs by heart, so it will be even more of a fun concert-going experience. B is going to be surrounded by Brazilians, artsy Berklee college world music lovers, and me, the Brazil lover.
I'm also going to convince him that we should plan to have Africa Night sometime this month. He's busy a few weekends, then his birthday is coming up, then there's Thanksgiving...so I'm thinking late November we can pull something together. Either that, or next weekend. I'm not sure if my roommate's parents are coming up for her birthday or not, but then next weekend wouldn't be the greatest. Then I figure he may have stuff to catch up on, as he's in DC for the rally this weekend. I also figure he needs to be back in time to do tutoring tomorrow. I feel like he just might fall asleep during the concert. I'll have to poke him.
So, I'm happy! Yay! Not because of B, or Djavan coming this weekend, insha'Allah, or being done with RMD, insha'Allah, or having two engaging new (but reading heavy!) courses this quarter...my program planning and design course and my Sexuality and Public Health course. It's the sum of all of these!
I guess I should do more work today than I thought...I forgot I'm retwisting my hair tomorrow. That will take some time.
After getting stuck on a chapter that turned out to be more important than I thought, to preserve a character that was more critical than I at first expected...I am a chapter and a half away from finishing the first full-length story that I've written as an adult. Yay!
B wants to read it. I've already given him hints, but he doesn't want to be spoiled. That's exciting, but I'm also a little nervous for him to read it, because if he only knew how much of it (especially the Desirée narration) was thinly veiled fiction, then he would instantly know tons of stuff about me.
At the same time, I'm not too concerned. I'm not worried about him knowing tons of stuff about me.
I think I'm going to go back to samba today after a two week hiatus after I twisted my ankle three weeks ago. It was a mild twist that just exacerbated an old injury, but samba for sure would have killed it. I think I'll wrap my ankle just in case, but I need to get moving again. I've also had a two week hiatus from the gym, and although I've been good at maintaining my weight so far, this week I've been a little bit of a lazy eater so it's time to get back to moving, now.
B at this time should be in DC, heading toward the rally. I would have gone, but none of my friends are going, and I figured it'd be too much if we rode the 10 hours roundtrip together, then I'd cramp his style as he was hanging out with one of his old friends. I mean, we're friends-ish, but I'm still a girl he's trying to impress, kind of, and it wouldn't be as comfortable, maybe. I don't know, I make excuses, but also I'm tired and I need to clean up my life. Tons of papers from fall 1 quarter are all around my room and I need to go ahead and put them into the binders I bought two months ago.
Yes, but RMD is almost done! Alhamdulillah! I'm going to proof it once more (because I'm OCD like that) before I give it to a couple of family members to read through. I'm nervous about this...I'm nervous that they'll say certain aspects aren't realistic, are over-the-top, or ask me why I would write about such material. We'll see. I, personally, like it a lot, but then again, I'm me.
And from there, I'm going to figure out how to get it published. A couple of my cousins are self-publishing, but I kind of want to find an agent and go from there.
But preview! I can only preview the first 120 pages or so, because around that time, the twist (!!) happens, so I don't want to give that away. But man, it's been a while since I read the first part...even though I wrote it, I forget exactly what happens. So I'm providing an excerpt. This is when Mo, very upset because he's not yet gotten into medical school, among other things, ventures over to Nisreen's apartment during her spring break, desiring to talk to somebody while all his friends are away during the break:
Nisreen steps forward, pulling the door behind her, as if ready to dismiss him. “I said, what can I do for you, Mahmud?” Mo’s scratching his head and running his fingers through his hair. He remembers he needs more gel; he didn’t have enough this morning. “You kind of caught me at a bad time. I was cleaning and didn’t expect anybody…”Insha'Allah, I'll be done by this weekend!
“Well, you did call me a couple of days ago, telling me I should stop by, right?” He leans against the wall, supporting himself with his left arm. He watches as Nisreen gazes at this arm.
“A couple of days ago?” Nisreen chuckles curtly. “I called you a couple of weeks ago.”
Mo’s confused. Exactly how much time has passed? He did run his last gel in lab a while ago…she’s probably right. “Damn, you’re probably right. Sorry.”
Mo notices Nisreen flinch at the damn. She waves it off, though. “No need to apologize.” She’s opening the door wider and beckoning Mo inside. “What’s time, anyway, but an artificial construct to make us more comfortable in this elusive existence?” Mo doesn’t pay enough attention to Nisreen’s statement to become confused. Instead, he finds himself tracing her curves with his pupils again. Her long-sleeved shirt is clingy enough to outline the flare of her hips. He shakes himself out of it again. This is Nisreen, this is a Muslimah, a hijabi at that…if she caught him looking her up, she’d shuttle him straight out of the house and probably toss out an astaghfirullah for good measure. He’s desperate for company, so he guesses he needs to behave himself.
By the time he returns to face Nisreen, though, she’s eyeing him dubiously. Instead of apologizing, he tries to act like he wasn’t just undressing her with his eyes. He focuses on her face instead. Nisreen’s face, usually rounded because of the way she ties her scarf, is more triangular today. Her large forehead seems to shrink as she raises her eyebrows. She’s probably raising her eyebrows because he’s stood at the door to her apartment for nearly two minutes, and he’s still not coming inside.
“Mo, is there anything wrong?” Nisreen inquires, cocking her head to the side.
She called him Mo. He likes the way her O sounded, the way her lips rounded as she breathed it out. “Naw, I’m cool,” he manages to say. He swallows.
Nisreen shakes her head. “No, this isn’t right. You don’t look good at all. Come in, sit down and rest for a little bit.” Before he has the chance to protest, Nisreen grabs his left arm and drags him into her apartment and guides him to a sofa in the center of the room. Mo watches as she closes and locks the door to her apartment. She then runs into her kitchen, crashes around for a bit, and returns with two glasses of water. “I didn’t know if you prefer room temp or ice water. I’ll take whatever you don’t.”
I have tons of reading to do this weekend, and biostats homework. I plan to do the bulk of those tomorrow, returning home in time to get all spiffed up for the Djavan concert (!!) on Sunday. I'm taking B...literally, because I bought the tickets with my WorldMusic membership. Unlike two years ago, I know a few more of Djavan's songs by heart, so it will be even more of a fun concert-going experience. B is going to be surrounded by Brazilians, artsy Berklee college world music lovers, and me, the Brazil lover.
I'm also going to convince him that we should plan to have Africa Night sometime this month. He's busy a few weekends, then his birthday is coming up, then there's Thanksgiving...so I'm thinking late November we can pull something together. Either that, or next weekend. I'm not sure if my roommate's parents are coming up for her birthday or not, but then next weekend wouldn't be the greatest. Then I figure he may have stuff to catch up on, as he's in DC for the rally this weekend. I also figure he needs to be back in time to do tutoring tomorrow. I feel like he just might fall asleep during the concert. I'll have to poke him.
So, I'm happy! Yay! Not because of B, or Djavan coming this weekend, insha'Allah, or being done with RMD, insha'Allah, or having two engaging new (but reading heavy!) courses this quarter...my program planning and design course and my Sexuality and Public Health course. It's the sum of all of these!
I guess I should do more work today than I thought...I forgot I'm retwisting my hair tomorrow. That will take some time.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Encontros e Despedidas
As salaam alaikum,
So, I love this song. I'ma translate it...
But first, random updates:
(1) I just met a woman who reminded me of myself...physically, I mean. She looked like me. We were the same coloring, similar build, everything. Especially her face...we had, like, the same eyes. It was creepy. I always say I've never met someone who looks like me, whereas most people have a physical type that fits them. She was it for me. She was at our book club (in which we actually never read books, we watch documentaries, but whatever) with her husband, and she's about 26 weeks pregnant. Hahaha, it makes me feel like a weird narcissist to say she was gorgeous, but what can I say? I've never met someone who looked so much like me, and if I think I look gorgeous, of course, by the transitive property, she would be, too! Masha'Allah!
And (2) a few months ago, like, back in April when book club was still new, I met this guy, and it's funny when you know that you're eventually going to be involved with a person. It's like, you have this intuition, and you know, but you don't want to believe it in your mind, but you know. Yeah. He's back in the country now after a trip to...Indonesia, I think, and after book club we departed with a rushed, "We should hang out!" And we should. I'll say more about him after we actually hang out, but wow. I was smiling like the Cheshire Cat on the T and was so happy like I haven't been since I was a teen on the campuses of the University of Michigan (by the way, great job with ball so far, babes!). I find when I'm really happy, I get hit on a lot more. Three men shouted out to me from cars yesterday...I haven't gotten that much attention since I was 21 years old!
More about this book club, which I fondly nicknamed "Africa Night," and this guy later.
Okay, enough with the updates...I'm going to have to get up on some Milton Nascimento, who wrote this song. This song was great for Maria Rita...it took me a while to warm up to her, though, easier once I stopped expecting to hear Elis Regina...
Send news about the world outside
Say those who remain
Give me a hug, come hold me
I'm arriving
A thing that I like is being able to leave
Without having plans
Better yet is being able to return
When I want to
Everyday is a bustle
Life repeats itself at the station
There are people who come to stay
There are people who go, never to return
There are people who come who want to go back
There are people who go who want to remain
There are people who I only come to watch
There are people smiling and crying
And like this, arriving and departing
They are just two sides
Of the same trip
The train that arrives
Is the same train that leaves
The arrival time
Is also the time of departure
The platform of this station
Is the life of my world
Is the life of my world
Is life.
So, I love this song. I'ma translate it...
But first, random updates:
(1) I just met a woman who reminded me of myself...physically, I mean. She looked like me. We were the same coloring, similar build, everything. Especially her face...we had, like, the same eyes. It was creepy. I always say I've never met someone who looks like me, whereas most people have a physical type that fits them. She was it for me. She was at our book club (in which we actually never read books, we watch documentaries, but whatever) with her husband, and she's about 26 weeks pregnant. Hahaha, it makes me feel like a weird narcissist to say she was gorgeous, but what can I say? I've never met someone who looked so much like me, and if I think I look gorgeous, of course, by the transitive property, she would be, too! Masha'Allah!
And (2) a few months ago, like, back in April when book club was still new, I met this guy, and it's funny when you know that you're eventually going to be involved with a person. It's like, you have this intuition, and you know, but you don't want to believe it in your mind, but you know. Yeah. He's back in the country now after a trip to...Indonesia, I think, and after book club we departed with a rushed, "We should hang out!" And we should. I'll say more about him after we actually hang out, but wow. I was smiling like the Cheshire Cat on the T and was so happy like I haven't been since I was a teen on the campuses of the University of Michigan (by the way, great job with ball so far, babes!). I find when I'm really happy, I get hit on a lot more. Three men shouted out to me from cars yesterday...I haven't gotten that much attention since I was 21 years old!
More about this book club, which I fondly nicknamed "Africa Night," and this guy later.
Okay, enough with the updates...I'm going to have to get up on some Milton Nascimento, who wrote this song. This song was great for Maria Rita...it took me a while to warm up to her, though, easier once I stopped expecting to hear Elis Regina...
Send news about the world outside
Say those who remain
Give me a hug, come hold me
I'm arriving
A thing that I like is being able to leave
Without having plans
Better yet is being able to return
When I want to
Everyday is a bustle
Life repeats itself at the station
There are people who come to stay
There are people who go, never to return
There are people who come who want to go back
There are people who go who want to remain
There are people who I only come to watch
There are people smiling and crying
And like this, arriving and departing
They are just two sides
Of the same trip
The train that arrives
Is the same train that leaves
The arrival time
Is also the time of departure
The platform of this station
Is the life of my world
Is the life of my world
Is life.
Monday, September 6, 2010
O Que Será/What Could it Be
Salaam,
The woman I stayed with while in Brazil introduced me to this song, and I didn't understand it at the time...too many words, went too fast. But a few months (or maybe a year) after I left, I listened to it again, and wow, it is a really beautiful song.
I like this rendition the best, though the audio isn't the greatest. It starts after 1:29.
I translated this a while back, and started working with a translation such that I could sing it in English...nothing is as good as the original, though, always.
I found it! Awesome...look at the last stanza especially...wow!
What could it be that does this to me?
That crushes me inside, what could it be?
That I wear on my sleeve, what could it be?
And that rises to my face and makes me blush
And that jumps into my eyes to betray me
And that opens my heart and makes me confess
What no longer has a way to hide
And that isn’t a right for anyone to deny
And that makes me beg, makes me plead
What has no measure and never will
What has no remedy and never will
What has no recipe?
What could it, could it be?
That exists within us when it shouldn’t
That makes us unsure, that is rebellious
That is like a drink that doesn’t satisfy
That is like being sick from a party
That not even the Ten Commandments will reconcile
Nor any of the ointments will alleviate
Nor any spells, any alchemy
That not even all the saints, could it be?
What has no rest and never will
What does not tire and never will
What has no limit
What will it be that does this to me?
That burns me up inside, what could it be?
That disturbs me from sleep, what could it be?
That agitates me with the shivers
That kindles the passion within me
That drenches me in sweat
That leads all of my nerves to pray
That leads all of my organs to cry out
It’s a horrible affliction that makes me beg
What has no shame and never will
What has no control and never will
What has no reason
This is my translation. There are probably others out there.
Paz!
The woman I stayed with while in Brazil introduced me to this song, and I didn't understand it at the time...too many words, went too fast. But a few months (or maybe a year) after I left, I listened to it again, and wow, it is a really beautiful song.
I like this rendition the best, though the audio isn't the greatest. It starts after 1:29.
I translated this a while back, and started working with a translation such that I could sing it in English...nothing is as good as the original, though, always.
I found it! Awesome...look at the last stanza especially...wow!
What could it be that does this to me?
That crushes me inside, what could it be?
That I wear on my sleeve, what could it be?
And that rises to my face and makes me blush
And that jumps into my eyes to betray me
And that opens my heart and makes me confess
What no longer has a way to hide
And that isn’t a right for anyone to deny
And that makes me beg, makes me plead
What has no measure and never will
What has no remedy and never will
What has no recipe?
What could it, could it be?
That exists within us when it shouldn’t
That makes us unsure, that is rebellious
That is like a drink that doesn’t satisfy
That is like being sick from a party
That not even the Ten Commandments will reconcile
Nor any of the ointments will alleviate
Nor any spells, any alchemy
That not even all the saints, could it be?
What has no rest and never will
What does not tire and never will
What has no limit
What will it be that does this to me?
That burns me up inside, what could it be?
That disturbs me from sleep, what could it be?
That agitates me with the shivers
That kindles the passion within me
That drenches me in sweat
That leads all of my nerves to pray
That leads all of my organs to cry out
It’s a horrible affliction that makes me beg
What has no shame and never will
What has no control and never will
What has no reason
This is my translation. There are probably others out there.
Paz!
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