This Non-Muslim Business

As salaam alaikum,

Back when I first started going out with B, I wrote a journal entry called The First Conundrum in which I outlined my problem - for our first date, B had invited me to go to the First Annual Nigerian Conference at Harvard for the 50th anniversary of Nigeria's independence. I liked him and I wanted to go, but on the same day, there was a conference being held at the Boston ISBCC by the founder of the Ta'leef Collective, a project which I am very much a fan of that really creates a forum for reverts and, as I call them, Muslims at the fringes to have dialogue, to learn about Islam, to return to the masjid in a way they wouldn't have before.

It was a one-day intensive for young Muslim students and professionals. It would have been perfect for me...but instead, I went out on a date.

So I liked this guy, I was Nigerian, it would be a great event, but I also was interested in what dude had to say, and he would only be in Boston for a limited time. In a sense, I was making a decision between my Nigerian identity and my Muslim identity.

I decided that I didn't do a whole lot with my Nigerian identity, so I chose that over the ISBCC event. Of course, it was also a decision to try dating, so I went there.

And thus began something that will impact the decisions I will make for the rest of my life. I began dating a non-Muslim, an issue that I had turned over in my mind but something that I assumed would never happen.

And now another non-Muslim, a Christian, is interested in me, and at the cusp of something else happening, I'm just going to have to take a time out.

For one thing, the way that B and I broke up had unnecessary drama cultivated by him, but besides that...he broke up with me because he needed space, and he didn't want me to wait for him. He'll need to be with himself for a long time. The thing is...the point that we got into our relationship, even with the unnecessary elements of our breakup, I still cared for him, and I still do. I want to check in on him, touch base with him periodically, all of these things.

Just talking to this guy I'm currently talking to, and he's a nice guy, I realize that I can't be doing that if I'm ever in a relationship with someone else. Like, that's a big no-no, still talking to your ex. I mean, it's all inevitable. If I don't end up with B I'm going to end up with someone else, so eventually our friendship/contact/whatever is going on right now would have to end. I just worry about him and want to check in on him and make sure he's okay and not continuing to go at life alone.

It's especially after a conversation I had with this other guy, and he was talking about what he felt constituted cheating...

The other big issue with this other guy is that he's not Muslim, and he'll have not Muslim expectations for a relationship that I did not fulfill with B...okay, let's be frank. He'll want to have sex. I did not have sex with B (haha, I feel like Bill Clinton right now), but let's say that before him, I had never kissed a man, and that's no longer true. I don't have to do that with anyone else, I realize. I don't regret the intimacy I had with him, and at the same time I do not regret that we did not have sex, by my demand.

I realize that if I cross that line, a lot that makes up my morals, my values, who I consider myself to be will dissipate. A lot of people remark at how different I am from most women they know (non-Muslims), and I think a lot of it has to do with my integrity in that regard. Not my virginity--I never liked that construct. But, the standards I live by, and how I struggle to uphold them...it's not the standards themselves that make me, it's the struggle that has shaped me.

But non-Muslim men have this expectation of sex in relationships that is real, and I understand now why so many Muslims see dating as synonymous with sex in this country because, oh Muslimahs, if you survey your non-Muslim friends, that's usually the case. My roommates of old and new, most of my friends...it's all true. They all assume that sex is part of a relationship...

So I don't think I can relate to non-Muslims anymore. I think the reason that B didn't pressure me to much is because he's a softy. Other men will not be as patient or understanding.

The issue is, it will take a very specific type of man to make a match for me. Even if I were to assume the manners and the dress of a hijabi again next month, I'm not the Muslimah that most Muslim men would expect out of a woman who wears the scarf. I once tried to fit into what I thought was the mainstream American Muslim world in college, and I didn't. I failed miserably.

I don't want to fit in, at the end of the day. I've never fit in really anywhere, and I love who I am. I just wish I had a way to go about finding a life partner without having to compromise my values any more than I already have, but for me, that seems a little bit impossible.

I don't know. Pray for me, as always.

[uncensored]: The Song I'll Stop Singing

As salaam alaikum,

Sometimes, there are songs that I start off singing and then I decide to stop singing because I either no longer like them or I just can't get with the lyrics.

An example are the following lyrics to this song that used to come up on my Pandora from Toquinho: "As vezes quero creer mas não consigo. É tudo uma total insensatez. Aí pergunto a Deus, 'Escute, amigo. Se for pra desfazer, por que que fez?"

Which translates: "Sometimes I want to believe but I'm not able to. It's complete nonsense. Then I ask God, 'Listen, friend. If it tends towards entropy, why did you make it?"

It's a question a lot of us encounter on either side of the believing pole as we develop spiritually, but I can't bring myself to sing lyrics such as these. While as part of my spirituality, I don't cut out the music, I am media literate and spiritually literate...I don't take things into my body that are more harmful for me than good, and that includes music with lyrics that are "not edifying," as my parents told me.

So while I am a believer alhamdulillah and while I don't cognitively shake when I hear lyrics like that...why would I take it into my body?

Allah (swt) made us so wonderfully...we make associations. Towards the end of my relationship with B, I started hearing the song in my head, "Silly fool, how'd you lose such a good thing," lyrics from Teddy Pendergrass, in reference to him, and also "Next Lifetime" by Erykah Badu when I started to realize that he wasn't the one. Our minds make associations like that, and since I listen to a lot of music, I make a lot of musical associations.

So I don't want to be going through a trial in life or witnessing the hardship of others and hear, "As vezes quero creer mas não consigo..."

But that's not the type of song I'm talking about. The type of song I'm talking about is like the one I wrote about in one of my chapters of RMD (it's been a long time!), a Desirée chapter called, "The No-Sex Violators." It goes a little something like this:

   No sex before marriage. At fifteen, this was just another song that Desirée heard her parents sing. It wasn’t one of their favorites yet, but Desirée knew it soon it would be.

The school is Godless was Desirée’s mother’s favorite tune these days. If her mom could, Desirée knew that she would forbid her from tenth grade health class because of the way they taught sex outside of the context of God. If her mother knew about the whole putting the condom on the banana thing, she’d probably be appalled. Desirée appreciated her teacher’s respect for her ability to make her own decisions, at least, with the safe sex curriculum. It was all in principle, though—a different principle than the one that made her refuse to put the condom on the banana she was given. She felt as if she were being mocked. In reality, she didn’t know what she stood for as she dodged the condom water balloons made by the guys in her class and made her way to Western Civ during passing time.

 No sex before marriage didn’t mean much to her because marriage at that point seemed so far away. It seemed a near impossible feat. She couldn’t even get a boy who was worthwhile to like her, so marriage and, she guessed, sex, were far away.

Oh yeah, putting the condom on the banana in health class...haha, Desirée chapters at some points were more autobiographical than fiction. This was one of the points. I didn't tell my mother until years later about putting the condom on the banana...and I did not participate. I figured I wouldn't be having sex any time soon...

...though as my roommate maintains, I just avoided having a teenage pregnancy. And it's true...I was a bit of a boy-crazy little girl. I had a different crush every year from the time I was five until I was 12. That last one, seventh grade, was a heavy one because the estrogen had kicked in...I had been menstruating for two years and puberty was behind me. I was ready. Me and this boy were going to get married at 20, move to Detroit and I was going to have a boy that I would make his junior. Yeah. I also got propositioned for the first time at 15 while at a conference in a hotel away from home. I knew nothing about birth control and was not that concerned that I didn't know. Teenage brain alert!

The little boy tried, too. He was 16...had his eyes set on me. I felt validated, as a teenage girl would, but I think what happened was this other guy who liked me, who was 14, kicked the other guy out of my room, telling him to, "stay away from [his] woman!" Yeah. Shenanigans.

But I digress.

So songs are powerful, whether they're actual songs or figurative songs, our own personal refrains that we repeat at intervals, that we're known for...

My mother's picked up her grandmother's: "Be thy labor, big or small. Do it well, or not at all." I'll pick up my grandmother's...no, not "I'll beat your ass until you shit," but maybe the, It'll be alright, "Eat a little shit, won't hurt," refrain. Me gusta.

But from here on out, actually, I vow to stop singing the following songs: Guys are all full of crap, men aren't worth two craps, the quality of men is zero right now, there are no good men out there...and all variations. Chose your favorite. I personally like the two craps one.

Why am I going to stop doing that? Because I realize what I've always known...it's not true!

I know it's not true, because if I didn't know it was true, I wouldn't be so frustrated by so many of the men who are before me...I would be resigned. If I didn't know it was true, I would have given up long ago. If I didn't know it was true, I wouldn't have been willing to take the L with B and taken the chance in that relationship...

It is not true!

I'm also going to stop singing, "All the good ones are already married" song, because that's also not true.

I look at this guy in my global reproductive health class. He's a really smart OB/GYN from Nigeria (Igbo kwenu!) and I'm really inspired by the work he's done and the perspective that he brings to the table. He's one of the good ones, yes, and he's already married, yes.

But then, there's this other guy. I've gotten to know him in the course of my year here...I think he was in my roommate's ethics class. He's a funny guy, usually sits with us during lunch and distracts us from work telling us stories about what it's like in Nigeria...he has one of those personalities that pops, really. I've gone to a couple of public health school parties and people have commented about us together...our interactions and whatnot. And at first I dismissed it, like, oh, that was just us acting silly. But now, the tone has changed now that he knows I'm no longer with B...who he met when we went out for the first time to Harvard's celebration of the 60th anniversary of Nigeria's independence...gala...I know, that's a long name. Anyway...

He's a physician in Nigeria, he's going to go back to Nigeria to complete his training after he's done with the MPH, and we're all done in about 3 weeks. I'll be his facebook friend, so we'll keep in touch. I've purposefully kept myself at bay because I feel like he may like me and I don't want to encourage him, but I'm to this event that the Nigerian student organization (that mysteriously I was not invited to join) is putting on this evening...

...and I was coming home to eat after an interview this morning and I just had to stop myself and reflect...wait, this is a good guy. I don't see him in class because he's in a different major, but he probably has a lot to offer. He's funny, he's kind...haha, he reminds me of a short, young, Nigerian Santa Claus, haha. He's shorter than me. And here I am, doing what I know how to do best...keeping myself aloof and avoiding.

He's actually not unattractive...you know, besides been a little short-n-stout, but you know...there's also the thing of him going back to Nigeria soon...and me thinking of him more like a cousin than someone I'd be interested in...more like a friend.

So no, there are good guys around! I'm friends with many many of them, and most of them are not attracted to me, but sometimes, they are...and I'm the one who doesn't respond. I pass them by because, realistically, someone better will come along for these guys, someone who shares the passion for them, someone who fits into their lives...but they are good men.

I'm just not going to like all good men, and not all good men will like me. That's fine.

But the more I've sung the song about no good men being around, the more I've come to believe it, being blinded to the fact that most of my guy friends are good men...including the brother friends, these are good men who, if they were so interested and if I were so interested, I wouldn't mind...I guess, going forward toward a nikah?

Haha, I'm still not sure what to do in terms of courtship with Muslim men...I think it's all a very individual path.

But yes, let me stop believing that so I can see more all of the good men around me, so maybe next time I'll pay more attention when there is obvious interest.

So I'll stop singing that song.

[uncensored]: Stay Black and Die

As salaam alaikum,

One of my favorite quotes from the movie that I've never seen all the way through, but that I heard so many people quote before:

"I don't have to do nothin' but stay black and die."

Very telling, very reflective of frustrations many of my brothers and sisters in ancestry feel. My roommate thinks that the stress pathway being used to explain why all black women, even college-educated, high income black women, have higher rates of low birth rate and infant mortality than both white women and sub-Saharan African and African-born women of the same socioeconomic status is bullshit. But she also cherishes her fair skin, the legacy of her mixed background, and has probably seldom seen or felt the racism darker-skinned black women have.

It is not bullshit. It makes me angry when she doubts that stress of racism would have anything to do with the increased infant mortality in a population that otherwise should be as healthy as our sub-Saharan counterparts, if genetics mean anything.

I'm not as fair as her, necessarily (and she actually periodically rejects the fact that I am fair at all because I'm darker than her, and she has repeatedly expressed that she is the center of the universe, so what can I do), but I see the difference. I've gone into stores with my mother where she was treated like shit and I was smiled at and told to have a nice day. By black women.

Let me make things clear. I am not my predecessors in the Nation of Islam. You do not see me talking on here about the evils of the White Man. Some of that stress of racism is internal, not only within ourselves but within our communities, from our "brothers" and "sisters" in ancestry. Maybe not even ancestry. Blood used to be thicker than water. Siblings in skin color who must despise us as an extension of despising themselves.

I don't know. I'm just speculating.

Yes, things are internal, but racism is external, too. I still show my solidarity for the youth movement in Egypt, I still follow the stories every day, awaiting progress and next steps as another dictator bites the dust. However, even though one struggle at a time, I guess, let's remember how we treat our brothers and sisters. I read this article on TheRoot.com, and it was unsurprising based on all I've known as I came into Islam, but still a damn shame.

"I learned something much different from what I believed," said Bala, a native of northern Nigeria and a graduate student at the American University in Cairo, who lived in Egypt for six years. "I thought [the Arabs] were our brothers in Islam, but they don't bother about that when you're black. ... They pretend that you are a brother in Islam, but this is different from what they hold in their hearts and in their minds." - Sunni Khalid, Egypt's Race Problem.

I read this and I can't really get angry. I was saddened at some of the sub-Saharan Muslims leaving Islam because of the racism they faced in Egypt. I feel for Khalid's wife, Zeinab, who gets treated like a prostitute because of her skin color, but I can't play like I haven't rode my fair skin in places where black people were disparaged. *cough*Dominican Republic*cough*. I can't get angry because it's the same story, every day, every time...

We know this to be true, the racism that inhibits the growth of Islam. We may have more babies than people in other religions, but we need to stop focusing on quantity and more on quality.

I was disillusioned long ago. It's not even a thing. Like that Nigerian student said, I thought we were all siblings in Islam, but then I discovered that people don't see us that way when we're black. So much for the interracial nature of Islam, the thing that brought me to Islam in the first place. So much for the Qur'an and the Prophet's last speech.

Staying black and dying is never enough for me. No racist can take my relationship with Allah (swt) away from me. So excuse me, I'm going to stay a black and Muslim until insha'Allah...

And I pray that, whenever I am so blessed, I carry my beautiful, black babies to term.

Socially Conscious

As salaam alaikum,

Last night, I talked to B. I didn't realize that I had fallen asleep, and then my body somehow turned on the phone, and I suddenly heard "Hello?" I tried to play like I wasn't just asleep, but he can always tell. He doesn't want to talk to me late because he doesn't want to wake me. Even though we're past the stage where I'd sleep with the phone by my bed and wait for him to contact me in the middle of the night, I still would talk to him at whatever hour of the night.

I miss him. The last time I saw him was Saturday, and I won't get to see him until Friday, meu Deus! If we're doing dinner, we'll have to figure out well in advance where we're going so it won't be the same fiasco as last time...choosing a place for nearly 2 hours. I don't want to keep a hungry man from his food.

One day, we should cook together...but I think that should be a weekend and not a weekday. Two grad students tired from a week of work will not produce a good product.

I woke up this morning to a not-impressive blizzard that will soon turn to ice, if it hasn't already. Oh well. The snow was pretty while it was just snow. The snow we got yesterday, I felt, was more meritorious of the term blizzard, even though it was nothing like what we got in January. I took my Advil, which I must take religiously on the first and second days of my cycle, but I feel less hormonal and can probably actually leave my room tomorrow without getting annoyed at my roommate.

...then I picked up my Kindle to read the news.

I haven't decided if I'll have time (or the money) to subscribe to any news source on my kindle when I can read the website for free (though with difficulty on the Kindle). However, because of reading the news, I've been up on so many things that I usually would have gotten second hand...like, I followed Tunisia and I caught Egypt's uprisings from the beginning. This is something I haven't done, really, since college and the first year of medical school.

I have my intended to thank for this, partially.

He's like me, and very socially conscious. But he is more so than me. One of the things that kept my attention when I first met him is how incredibly well-read he is in history and current events, not only of the United States and Nigeria, but the entire world. He knows a freakish amount about these things for someone who didn't major in history because in college, he self-educated himself.

So he's been watching Al-Jazeera English before all the cool kids jumped on the bandwagon to watch it for Egypt.

He's been busy with research for a while and hasn't gotten to read as much as he wanted to, but he still keeps up with current events...compulsively. He has an opinion about everything. The only thing that's different between us is that he has a bitter, disillusioned baseline about the world, and I guess mine is bittersweet.

There is a lot of bad and evil in the world, but there is also tons of good.

I just had a revelation a few months ago. The best among us, the heroes among us, are people who do good to reverse the bad that other people have put in place or are actively instituting. In the grand scheme of carnage, injury, starvation, destitution, assault, rights violations, natural disasters play a small part. People are suffering daily in the hands and policies of everyone from dictators to democratically elected individuals.

What does this discovery mean? For every bad thing that's happening in this world, there's probably a little person, or little people, on the ground, springing forth in grassroots operations, doing for self, working for their people who are suffering, and we've seen instances where that can make a huge difference and creep up to the policy level so there is still hope for everything.

Some are saved, some are not. Some problems have more activists than others. But it's not impossible. That's what I get from history and current events. Change is not impossible...

...all by the grace of God, but I don't push that with B, because I know that my belief in God is different than his belief, because of where I've been, the challenges I've faced and the resolution I've seen.

But it is refreshing to talk to him about anything happening in the news and he already has encyclopedic knowledge about it because he reads it in his free time, because he knows the history of the region, or if he doesn't know he's already up on learning it.

It's cool to be made a little bit better by someone. This is something that's within me, that I always wanted to do, and he's helping me to get back to that by being my partner in following the news.

Owly. :)

Hilarity!

As salaam alaikum,

So yes. B has to meet my friends, because they're starting to say ridiculous things. People are demanding pictures of him, and I'm like, umm...am I supposed to carry around pictures of him? Are we supposed to have taken pictures together? People really want to meet him. In due time...sometime after Thanksgiving, I'll invite him to a gathering of friends.

The most ridiculous thing ever was said by my classmate and friend, my roommate's best friend, yesterday morning:

"Isn't that, like, against the law in their country of origin?" Aaaaahahahahahahaha!

Poor B. His friends are all normal people. My friends are all crazy.

My friends my scare him a little, actually. That's okay. It'll build character...especially when he meets my ex-roommate.

...she'll probably think he's gay.

(I told you my friends were crazy!)

Sound Off! and In Other News

As salaam alaikum,

In my Sexuality and Public Health class, there are a couple of people intent on bashing Islam. One of my friends, also Muslim (and Nigerian!) had to stand up and defend. We have a new addition to our class, an Arab Christian lady who was the main culprit...the ridiculous things that she said were in the Qur'an! I mean, come on! You want to talk about the evil things that Musilms have done in the communities you know of, fine. I don't deny these things, I condemn them along with you. Am I comfortable with only negative examples of Muslims being shared in this faux-liberal class? No, but I'm also not comfortable with the fact that Muslims around the world are doing ignorant things, not only to others but to themselves and within their own communities, own homes such that those who will have things to voice about, noise about, fodder to bash an entire group of people based on the activities of a loud minority...

Terrorism is the obvious thing to condemn, and I believe most of us here (in the US) condemn it readily. People who say that we don't obviously do not personally know Muslims or follow any Muslim media sources, and don't care to. Others of us recognize and condemn other things. My pet issue to noise about in the past has been racism, but there are others...women's rights, for example. With the racism argument, I've encountered the defense that Muslims are humans, too, and make mistakes. I mean, obviously, but I believe that we have as much of a duty to speak out against and to inform ourself about injustices within our physical and imagined umam as we have a duty to defend injustice against us, to be chartible to one another, and all else. I believe that without the former the latter is incomplete.

People who will would find a way to bash Muslims even if evil and ignorance were being committed by 100 Muslims. There are upwards of 1.7 billion of us on this earth right now, and if as many of us were backwards as they want the public to believe, this whole place would be a greater chaos state than it is now...if I may reduce the world to a state. I despise those who, in the name of Islam, perpetuate ignorance and spread their evil works and besmirch the image of my religion, who massacre my brothers and sisters in Islam and otherwise make it harder for other Muslims to live on this earth. I despise them more, actually, than most of those in my faux-liberal class who so readily speak ill of my religion while knowing nothing about it.

Activists are sometimes funny people. They are very reactionary and use the word agency a lot. They think they are liberal but really they can be as narrow-minded as conservatives are, just on the other side of the argument. Oh liberal actvitist, you don't have the market cornered on the best way to live life and conceptualize future. To believe that you do is a type of cultural imperalism not unlike that which you would decry in the history classes about the various European colonization efforts that you may have taken in your liberal arts institutions.

Yes, hello. I am a Muslim woman. I find it funny, oh classmates, that you see abstinence as unnatural and restrictive so universally, but I'll let you have that one. But I also find it funny that you think you're so liberal in your effort to have language inclusive for people of all sexual orientations and gender identifications, but you adopt language and ideals that is not inclusive of those who choose to be more conservative with their sex, for whatever reason.

But I guess inclusivity of more conservative modes of thought is not most people's definition of liberal. I guess I was under the false assumption that being liberal meant being more open-minded, more inclusive, more accepting of differences in thought. Oops!



In other news...

An annonymous donor has contributed $30 million dollars to Harvard Medical School for primary care, and that has gone toward a new center of primary care...new, because there's not been one before, and months ago, the primary care budget was cut at Harvard, leading to an understandable unrest amongst our primary care activists. The announcement came in an email from Dean Flyer shortly after the announcement about the expansion of the immunology program, something that I'm also excited about because, personally, the immune system is my favorite system of the body (yes, actually not the reproductive system!). But this is awesome. I'm excited to see what comes about in my next year and a half at the medical school in terms of primary care and see it's implications for family medicine.

Also, after discussing with the roommates whether "in love" existed [which I think is a moot argument, kind of, in the way that they were having it...one said that the feelings existed, but in love, as in romantic love, doesn't exist, while love for family and friends is the only love that exists...I could write a whole entry about how my conceptions of love have changed over time, but yeah, that's not what this about], I went to sleep and, like a fool, had a dream about B. B, being the man that he is, neglected to tell me that when he was leaving this weekend, he wouldn't be back until...next Friday!

And I didn't see him at all after going to the Djavan concert with him (in which, admittedly, I kind of wish I could have gone alone and pretended I was Brazilian, since I can now speak Portuguese without a sotaque), because he was working on his poster.

But a whole week...d'oh! Why did you think that was okay to tell me at the last minute...we may just be friends+, but my friends tell me their plans, I expect the same of a friends+.

So then, after waxing philosophical about love and the term "romantic love"...I had a dream about him last night. I had a dream that I was in my apartment with friends, and I went to the kitchen where my roommates were, and there he was. And I ran up to him and hugged him, asked him what he was doing here. I excused the place being a sty (which it is right now), and he said that he didn't care. However, there were tampon wrappers and tampons around the living room that I tried to discreetly pick up (okay, so the apartment in real life is not that nasty...no stray tampons, mainly just papers from school). He told me that for the conference, the hotel cost more than him just commuting back and forth by bus, so he decided to come back home and commute daily (makes no sense in the dream, either, because the hotel room was supposedly only $50 and the commute on the bus was $6 round trip...I've been watching too much "Mad Men.")

So I introduced him to all of my friends, which included one of my roommates friends (who we visited last night in the upstairs boys apartment) and a bunch of other random Asians, including this girl from my sexuality class, an undergraduate at The College (hahaha, if I may). We watched this movie on the small tube television in our living room.

It became late, and one of my roommates suggested that B stay over. She then, as I imagine she would do in real life, suggest that he stay in my room. I objected, which for some reason involved me making acting out an upper case sigma with my body, at which B laughed. That was the part of the dream that made the least since...me making the sigma. That's biostats coming into my head, and the fact that I have an upcoming biostats exam.

I woke up and laughed at myself. That was a perfectly ridiculous dream.

Yesterday was my roommate's birthday. We went out with her parents to Fire and Ice, this restaurant downtown very much like BD's (Mongolian Barbecue) at home. It was fun. It was great seeing her parents...seeing where one comes from makes a lot of sense. And they paid...that was awesome.

But speaking of which, back to working out for me! I've had too much free food in the last month, too little exercise. Time to start it back up before my weight creeps back up.

Anyway...I just remembered a song my mother used to listen to that I haven't thought of in years. Wow...I don't know why I just thought of this. I think I'm in that sentimental mood right now...gah, I forgot how this feels!

{Currently listening: Brandy (I Really Miss You) - O'Jays}

Oh man! Adoro.

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:

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…”


“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.”

Insha'Allah, I'll be done by this weekend!

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.

Love Me Nots? Like Him Nots.

As salaam alaikum,

Alas, I'm derailed a bit because Dropbox didn't sync one of the files I needed this morning. I briefly contemplated going back home and getting my computer before I decided that it won't hurt starting all over again with my notes for my paper. I didn't spend that much time reading and compiling what I already had, and since I've already read some of the papers, my work will be streamlined. Whatever. Dropbox has only just now let me down...I'm still not sure why it didn't sync the file.

I was typing up notes about the epidemiology of lupus and suddenly, I thought about B, how we went to see The Town last night (and crap-talked through the whole thing...I will take all of my roommate's movie recommendations with a grain of salt from now on!) and how he's taking me to this MIT dinner party/house warming thing on Sunday. I'll know no one, he'll know some people, so as if the Nigerian conference weren't enough for me to feel like the girlfriend being introduced to the friends (haha, though it was without a title...I was just Chinyere), this is totally going to be one of those situations.

And then I did my usual thing, and I thought. I remember something my other roommate remarked when I talked about him. She said she didn't really feel like I liked him, she couldn't hear it yet.

I told her all sorts of things, like, I've been there, done that...no more liking someone wildly, fancifully, crushing on them absently for years. No more thinking about the person every second of the day (because I don't, actually...not at all like MQ in 2004-2005), no more imagining being together, none of that. Plus, I'm very reserved in the first place when it comes to describing these things...I don't know what she expected me to say.

And I asked her, "What, do you want me to describe how it feels when he touches me?" At which point, I insulted my other roommate's sensibilities. I then started singing "He Loves Me" by Jill Scott.

"When you touch me, I just can't control it...when you touch me, I just can't hold it!"

"Inappropriate," said my other roommate. We were walking to Kendall at the time to the cinema to see...something, I don't remember.

But thinking about what my roommate said, that it doesn't sound yet like I like him...maybe I don't.

Maybe not, I can't say for sure.

But I'm obviously excited to see him, excited to hear from him. I enjoy his (at times awkward) company. We're so remarkably similar that I can't help to feel like some aspect of this was meant to be...but I do come at the whole thing, even my own emotions about the whole thing, in a very practical manner.

I don't think I like him, emotionally speaking.

There's too much background noise, I'm not able to tell. Sometimes I feel like he doesn't like me, either.

I mean, the signs are there...he keeps inviting me to things, we keep "hanging out," he keeps paying for things, there's the proximity, the gestures, the words...but a little bit, I feel like we're just going through this as a matter of course. We're remarkably similar, we're both incredibly intelligent, highly educated Nigerian Americans at two top institutions who happen to be living now within area codes of each other...I feel like maybe we both feel like, well, this is good...we should take advantage of this.

There's something missing, though, something that maybe only time will concede. I feel like, sometimes I talk a lot and he has nothing to say because maybe he's thinking, wow, why am I with this woman right now? And in those times of silence I wonder if maybe I'll end up telling the same stories, and then we'll have nothing left to say in the end.

I considered myself to be coming at this very practically, but maybe it's even too practical for me.

Why do I like him? We have a similar sense of humor...evidenced by the fact that we find each other's comments in a movie amusing. That was the first thing. Sense of humor, that he's well-read, self-educated while also getting his PhD, so institutionally educated as well. He's up on current events, he's conscientious, he's ambitious, has pretty clear aspirations for the future. He's like me in ways that I can't describe because we both have Nigerian parents (or parent for me) and grew up in this country, so we're both in it and not. We're both Igbo and black, we go between both populations seamlessly. He's underground hip hop, I'm neo-soul, which is a nice complement, at least I think.

And like I said before, a big plus for me was the fact that he knows I'm Muslim, respects that, respects me. That's something I've always wanted. I've been with Muslims that didn't respect how I was Muslim before, to the point of wanting to rename me. No, I'm Chinyere, and I'll always be. My mother changed her name but that's my mother. I am different from my mother by at least half.

These are all important things. Like I said before, the fact that we would be together makes all the sense in the world...maybe too much sense?

Ahh...I know.

He's more like me than anyone I've ever met. Just like that Africa Night where I met the woman who looked like me, I'm now in a relationship with a guy who is almost the male equivalent of me, and while we are obviously not completely the same, we're enough the same that I'm not especially intrigued, except for the fact that this is another human being that I'm relating to.

It took me a while to do this, because there is no comparison between human beings, but I'm comparing him now to MQ. MQ followed a similar pattern...I started liking that individual because he started liking me first. As soon as I saw that he was interested in me, intrigued by my intelligence, wanting to spend time around me, that piqued my interest...I wanted to see what this guy was about.

Why would he, who was so different from me, who was like no one I'd ever met, be interested in me? Is there something about me that I don't know? Who is this boy, and what world is he coming from? He's coming from a world that I don't know, and somehow, here we are, existing in the same realm, having feelings for each other, and it's the most wonderful thing I've ever felt in life...

That was MQ at it's purest. That whole experience inspired me to write A Rose Much Desired. No joke.

This...is different. Like I said, it all feels like a matter of course. It's like, well, you're you, and you're here, and we have these things in common...let's go forward.

Which is fine. This is not me backing out. This is just me realizing...we're getting to a critical turning point in which something's got to give.

Too many sitcoms joke about the friend's zone, and if you don't make a move with a female you'll find yourself in the friend's zone. I see it now, and it's really simple as to why it happens. Right now, I have to know if he likes me. If he doesn't let me know in some critical, concrete way (like saying, you know what, Chinyere, I like you), I'm going to assume that he's not that into me, and I will lose interest. I mean, after all, I like you right now because you like me and I'm intrigued by that fact and I'm trying to get to know this man who finds me attractive, right?

I'm not going to "let's just be friends" this guy, though. Why?

I think we're both in the same boat. I can't know for sure, but I feel like neither of us have very much experience in this being in a relationship thing, from the way things are going. Either that, or we have different styles. I think that's the most accurate, the different styles. But anyway, I feel like we're both in this because it's a matter of course...sometimes.

Sometimes, though, from the way he looks at me, I think he really likes me.

Hahahaha, I think the answer is, dude, he needs to let me know! Or else I'm going to be on to the next one!

How do I feel right now? I like him, but at the same time, I don't like just him. I like the idea of being in a relationship. I like not worrying about maybe being incapable of relating to another human being in a way that may someday lead to my reproducing. I like not feeling like I'll be forever single. It's kind of like Ramadan removed the Satan element so you knew what was really in your heart, what were your shortcomings. Removing the element of fear of singleness has helped me tomar uma atitude about so many other things in my life...get things done, realize that apart from that, I really am burned out from medical school and I need to get my crap together.

It makes me more efficient, but less in the joyful way that my short-lived relationship with MQ did. I seriously believed I could fly after that.

Maybe because I was young and fanciful, and if this Pakistani kid liked me, a black Nigerian American girl, then anything was possible.

Frankly.

Whereas now, it's like, yeah...if someone were to like me, B would be the one. Maybe I am not, in fact, incapable of relationships. ...okay, back to studying.

That's what it's like right now. I'm not 19 anymore, though. I'm 25, and nearly done with this year. Four more good months of it, and I'm on to 26. At 27, I'm going to be someone's resident physican. All insha'Allah.

I'll never be 19 again. A lot of life has passed and made me into who I am today.

Yet, no matter how this all ends, I refuse to resign myself to a relationship for a relationship's sake, one that is a matter of course, just because we're two bodies with two spirits that should go together and we're forcing them to fit together. Because if things continue as they are, they'll start to feel forced.

There's a natural progression to things, and we're almost missing the mark.

Sunday. We'll see.

Back to work!

[uncensored]: It's a Thin Line

[deleted]

And So It Begins...

As salaam alaikum,

And so, it begins...

What begins? There's something about the promise of a relationship that brings out the worst of my neuroticism...it's not just me, I know, but I personally don't like the fact that I'm so neurotic! Ughh...

It's like, I spent almost all Saturday with this dude, body language let me know, okay, this isn't really friendship track, he's interested in me for real. Granted, by the end of Sunday I'd cooled off, into Monday, I was fine...wait, this is still Monday, huh?

...ever since we agreed to hang out, I'm one day ahead at all times. I thought it was Tuesday! Aaahhh...that's better.

Why does it matter what day it is? Because I was counting the days that it's taking him to get back in touch with me.

So I'm forgoing the rules. Like, I was supposed to wait for him to say something back, right? I'm tired of playing those games! He's the one who initiated contact in the first place, and quite well, I might add...maybe he was putting forth an effort, I don't know, maybe I'm in denial and maybe I am really about to go out with a really socially awkward PhD physics student...maybe I'm deluding myself, I don't know...

I mean, I guess this was still only really our first...interaction. I don't want to use the D word. Notice the euphemisms I'm spitting here. Seeing? Going out? Interacting? I'm in denial, once again.

Why? Because I don't want to admit to myself that I'm looking forward to...being with (there's another one) a non-Muslim. Man, I even want to erase that sentence!

But at the same time, I'm...okay, wait, he responded to my text...I'll be right back.

...

:-D

Hahaha, the first emoticon of this journal, as it were!

He asked me to the Palestinian Film Festival. Melt!

Aaaaaaaaaahahahahaha!

I'm such a girl right now.

So yeah, I was going to say...neuroticism. It's like, I was fine all day, but then tonight, I as like, hmm...he's not getting in touch with me, what if something happened and by the end of the night he thought it wasn't worth it to pursue me anymore? What if by going to the gala he saw all of those young Nigerian women and looked at me and thought, ehh, I could do better. What if he thought I was standoffish because [censored]?

(This, after all, is not in my [uncensored] series...)

But, none of that is true, because he asked me to the Palestinian Film Festival! Not a zombie movie, not a shoot-em-up action flick where apparently writers aren't necessary for actual dialogue other than the best string of expletives...but something intellectual.

Can you say, match?

...we have yet to have the religion conversation. I think if things get more serious, though, it will happen. Heh.

But he's cute...and now I get to not be neurotic because he texted me back and we're going to keep hanging out and life is grand, with him in it and independent of him...just, you know, to keep things real.

One artifact of me potentially being involved with someone for the first time (I also refuse to say the R word...really mature of me, I know) is that...for some reason, I'm feeling more at ease to find men attractive.

It's like, the most counter-intuitive and counterproductive thing ever. It's like, uhh, too late now, dude! Like, there was this guy at the gala and he was wearing these pants, like 60s vines, and they are pretty much my favorite pants for a man ever right now, because he, like the late, great Otis Redding, was wearing those pants. This other dude at the gala, good Lord...I was with Obi at the time, or else I would have looked more. Then on Sunday, I was randomly noticing the legs of a bunch of the men running by. I have such a weird, backward psyche!

For so many years, I've effectively repressed my sexuality because I've never had an outlet...as in, I've never liked someone who liked me back, or was man enough to go forward with it, or time and place was incorrect, whatever. So now that something's actually working out...I think it's that I feel like I still feel it's inappropriate to express myself, heh, with the person I'm involved with, but repression no longer works so I express it to the outside world, not to who should actually be the object. Right?

So I'm experiencing the breakdown of some pretty strong defense mechanisms...anyone who knows me knows that I never talk about men looking good, about body parts, anything. For a long time, I couldn't even say that I was attracted to men. I would talk in terms of a person, what I liked in a person, etc.

So, even though I'm trying to maintain some level of propriety, like putting a lid on it, I feel like it's still boiling over the sides, and it's making the flame go orange...and thus the breakdown of my analogy, kind of.

But man, I never thought I'd be the type of woman who would dress up a man, but if B and I ever got to that stage of comfort...he's going to be buying those pants. The pants will be light colored, he'll wear, like, a pale blue or plum shirt, with these black shoes (aaahh, I don't know men's brands of shoes...I'll have to learn that!), and he'll have to use Aveeno...

See what I mean? I'm completely crazy.

This journal has not seen the likes of MQ. MQ was the last time I liked someone this much, all of 6 years ago. You think this is crazy...this other guy was absolute insanity! That was the first time I discovered that I was neurotic. Before, I was definitely more dysthimic...

So I have matured...I just went crazy this evening, that's all.

He knows just the right things to say to endear me to him, though. He has quiet skill...not quite the skill, but quiet skill...quiet game. I like it!

And so it begins. By the end of this week, I think, I may have officially lost my mind.

And yay, he's going to talk to me tomorrow!


In other news, wow, what a difference doing tricep curls makes! I'm actually using dumbbells now and not just the machine, and yeah, I'm definitely seeing the difference. That, and I've been kind of losing weight more quickly than has been intentional in the last few days. Even though I hadn't been to the gym in four days since Toilet Flood 2010 (I still hurt when I sit down...couldn't really do crunches...), I'm still losing weight. It's pretty awesome.

Okay, so this was a sufficiently disgusting entry. If I weren't trying to keep it real when it comes to what I'm actually going through, I'd be losing my street cred right about now...

The First Conundrum

As salaam alaikum,

Aaaahhhh...

So, I met up with my friend, her boyfriend, and this guy who I apparently have to come up with a nickname for because he's going to be in my life for a bit. Let's call him B. Heh.

So B and I are taking over Africa Night while my friend and her boyfriend are in South Africa. I was really tired after Toilet Pipe Flood 2010 in my apartment got us up at 5:50am yesterday morning (more on that later) and a long day at the school of public health.

Anyway, B and I had these really awkward conversations and then he walked me home. I'm going with him to some of the events on Saturday for Harvard's Nigerian group's conference celebrating the 50th Anniversary of Nigerian Independence.

And I just realized this morning that I don't know the words to the national anthem...I mean, I was born here and if Nigeria has been-tos, I'm a never-been. There are several reasons for that.

Anyway...so all of a sudden being kind of with a Nigerian (kind of, because we're still just friends, shhhh...) is forcing me to be more Nigerian than I've ever had to be. Now I'm worried about what I'm wearing to this gala and my hair! My roommate, who is also Nigerian, said she would help me out.

In dealing with this guy I realize...this whole burgeoning possible relationship thing is something that I have no idea about, apparently. Either that, or we're both awkward and I'm foolishly thinking it's just me!

Anyway, I need to get ready to go to class in 15 minutes. The first conundrum is...as I feared...

This weekend at IBSCC mosque, the dude who is one of the founders of the Ta'leef Collective in California is running a one-day intensive especially for young Muslims (students and professionals) and reverts. Google Ta'leef to see what it's about, I don't have time to explain it now. I would have loved to go to it, and I think it's about what I need right now, but I've already agreed to go with this guy to the Nigeria thing...

And, faster than I expected, my Muslim identity is butting heads with my Nigerian identity like it hasn't had to in so long. Honestly, the reason I don't do more Nigerian things is because I'm always the paradoxical Igbo Muslim and I don't like to deal with that.

But this guy knows that about me, and still is interested...!

He likes me, I can't self-deny it. He does, and I like him...mainly because he likes me, though, I'm not going to lie.

Okay, I need to finish morning routine, but mannn...I wish I could go to that intensive. I'm going to go to a free lecture insha'Allah tonight instead of the whole day tomorrow thing, which is only $25, but aahhhh...I would pick this weekend to start romancing a Nigerian man!

...oh, and I finally told my roommates about him. They were very upset that I hadn't been sharing, haha! I'm sorry, roommies...

Hahahaha, wasalaam.

Being Woman for Men

As salaam alaikum,

{Currently Listening: Close to You - Carpenters}

I was doing reading for my Gender and Health class (and so it begins!) about the health of LGBT adolescents, indicators of poor health and improvements of health instruments, and the reading took me back to a very important period in my personal development...when my best friend came out to me.

I was just telling my roommate about it the other day, and I realize that it's not something that I really talk about, at all. For one thing, in the early days, when she wasn't out all the way, I didn't want to out her, so I didn't talk about it to anyone but her, and we didn't really discuss certain things. Anyway, I mean, on one hand, that solidified our relationship as best friends because she put that trust in me and I wanted to make sure that I was worthy of that trust. On the other hand...it left me really confused.

Short version...I didn't understand how she differentiated from me as her best friend and women that she was emotionally attracted to. I didn't understand because for me with guys, liking a guy friend was ultimately on a continuum that could end up with me liking them otherwise than friends, so I felt like in the end I was in a position as best female friend that was transitory, and that I was replaceable by an ultimately more desirable girlfriend...

Short version...there was a lot of crap going on with that.

So around that time, and with the advent of college, I began to struggle with the idea of what love was for me. Man, I was so young. Anyway, I don't think I got past the continuum idea. Other people differentiate between being attracted to someone and liking a friend, but I can't separate the two. If I'm friends with a guy but I'm not attracted to him, it's because I find something about him annoying or in general undesirable. Is there a physical aspect? Sure. But it's not insurmountable...

Anyway, so freshman year, I went through all sorts of crap, and then I met MQ, and, man, totally blew my mind!

{Currently Listening: Encontros e Despedidas - Maria Rita}

I wanted to be better for him...not for for him, but so that he would think I was attractive...so I could be an attractive perhaps maybe option for a relationship.

In retrospect, I realized this was messed up...if I had issues, I should have wanted to get better for myself, right? Well, in my life's path, it wouldn't be self-motivation that got me out of a dark place, but hope for companionship from this one then-boy that drove me.

I've told this sordid tale before. I won't delve further into the actual and instead will dance on the side of the theoretical, while keeping it still somewhat personal.

I think that an unfortunately large part of my female expression has been shaped over the years by men, or at least what I think men would want from me. There is a small part of me that thinks that I would be, by definition, a failure if I cannot get a worthwhile man to be attracted to me. Heh, I say worthwhile and not just any man precisely because of the phenomenon of street randoms, the random men on the street who will hit on you regardless of how you are dressed or time of day, really.

So currently, I see myself as a little bit of a failure of a human being. Yeah.

I'd be so different if my identity as a woman didn't depend so much on what I thought was attractive to men. I'd carry myself differently. I'd dress differently. I'd probably walk differently. I'd hold my eyes differently, I probably wouldn't smile as much. I'd probably care less about fashion and what other females are doing, because I wouldn't care so much to compare myself to them to figure out what I was doing wrong and what they were doing right. I'd probably not be so keen on losing as much weight as I currently want to lose and I wouldn't worry as much about my hair.

There would be things that didn't change. I'd still be interested in maternal/child health, I'd still love delivering babies, I'd still be into family medicine and love adolescent health and reproductive health. I'd still wear orange in the summer and spring and brown in the fall and winter. I'd still be in love with Brazilian Portuguese music and sing it to myself every chance I got. I'd still frequent the gym and go to my samba class (which is all women, pretty much). I'd still watch novelas...

So I guess it goes to show...I'd look a little bit different on the outside, maybe what I would consider right now to be more sloppy, but on the inside...I'd be the same person. And that's good to know...well, except maybe for the smiling part, the other things are things I don't really need anyway.

I just thought about all of this in the context of my attraction to MQ (trying to figure out why that was such a train wreck in the story of my life), and I think the answer in the end will be...I was young.

I don't know.

Insha'Allah

As salaam alaikum,

Insha'Allah, I'm going to finish this story I've been writing now for the past three years almost, A Rose Much Desired. I'm going to finish it before the end of October (that includes my final edit), insha'Allah.

Then I just have to figure out who I'm goign to give it to for the first read over.

Why do I say this? Because I just wrote a chapter that was very difficult to write, pretty much has been the chapter that I've been trying yet failing at writing for the last two years at least, and it will get me to the point where I know exactly how everything's going to happen, so it'll be easy to finish.

I hope I can get this published so my family can put it on their bookshelves. It'd be awesome, of course, if there was more interest in it, but judging by my sparse yet loyal readership for this thing...yeah, my family and a couple of friends will read it.

I'm excited, though! Almost done with my first completed work since "Daughter of a Supermodel," which I wrote when I was twelve.

Overjoyed!

Oh yeah, and my roommate, by reading the title and with my not wanting her to read any of the text assumes that it's a Harlequin novella. Haha, I laugh!

"Are there any sex scenes in it?"

"Well...not really." Heh.

And then she goes on about how you can tell Jane Austen never had sex because of the way that her interactions between males and females were without passion. Thanks, roommie, I'll keep that in mind.

She's still convinced it's a romance novel, I'm sure.

Thankful

As salaam alaikum,

Read my last entry. Yes, I'm jocking myself, but I liked it. I felt like it was an important thing for me to realize that was often a barrier for me being constant/sincere in prayer, and recognizing it has helped me to take a huge step in my practice that has always been a bit of a struggle. Insha'Allah I keep this always in mind.

Well, I've been enjoying this Ramadan! And although recently I've been having food dreams when I go to sleep after fajr, thus making me feel like I'm breaking my fast, I'm beginning to look at others around me differently. I used to look at the eating masses during the day and it made me acutely aware at how much Americans eat during the day, especially when they aren't actually hungry. I now look at people eating acknowledging that people eat around me all the time while I'm not eating, even if I'm not fasting, and I was no longer acutely aware of their feeding.

Inevitably, during Ramadan, not eating during the day is no longer a struggle and come Eid it feels criminal to eat during the day. However, this Ramadan, I've started to look at those eating their food and think, dude, if you could only get a whiff of the state of grace I feel during Ramadan and with fasting, and if only with that sense of grace could you appreciate the blessings above and beyond our perception, you'd be joining me in fast!

I just had a long talk with my roommate, and gol-ly! She doesn't "believe" in following career because you like it, nor does she believe in leisure. The first I can get with, but what is there to believe or not believe about leisure time? You can not like leisure time, but this is even strange to me because leisure time is my favorite time of the day.

And I realized it was a blessing that I am who I am. I love the way that I think and perceive the world...it doesn't frustrate me (ultimately), and I'm able to achieve harmony. I go to sleep smiling. Things of that nature.

And I realized, alhamdulillah, I'm able to be happy and thankful about everything that I am, who I am, and at peace with life at the moment. I reflected on other things about me I'm thankful for.

For one, I'm thankful that I can have vivid dreams. I explained to this same roommate an involved dream that I had that I was part of a team of scientist detectives that teleported ourselves to ancient Italy when things were written on tablets, except everything seemed very much like modern times, except for a different mode of dress and...menus for restaurants written on tablets. I had ice cream (probably gelato)...it was coconut flavored, and I actually ate it in the dream. That was exciting. Then I went back to the man's office, where I teleported to this rural town in present time. While with my partner, we warned a group of school kids and their teacher to stay out of the field. We couldn't tell her that it was because one of our space shuttles would land in the field. There was an old church adjacent to the field and another possible landing field on the other side where the kids didn't frequent to play. Though we feared the building collapse because it was old, we relocated that as the landing pad.

Later, I would wake up to heat and steam coming from below my door. I unintelligently opened the door, and glowing orange, hot steam flowed in accompanied by a deafening sound. I put blankets under the door, fearing fire, and ran to open my window. The steam subsided, and in the commotion I heard outside I realized that the space shuttle must have landed. President Obama was on the spaceship and landed. People were so amazed by what he did, they were no longer concerned about his birth certificate, about the Cordoba project, about any of the controversial issues right now. It was like, support your president. I went to tell my parents, but they were asleep in bed after a long day's trip the previous day. They did not respond to the landing of the space ship. My brother was downstairs, complaining about how the microwave had turned on and was "boiling" his food. He took out a plate of rice and stew that burned his hands, so he set it on the chopping board.

There were gas burners on that I turned off, assuming my parents had been careless the night before. I looked out of the window but people obscured Obama. I decided to go out of the front door (which by this time was the door to my old house) to see the commotion, but realized that I hadn't yet brush my teeth (which I hadn't yet in real life, either). I ran into the house and up the familiar stairs of my old house...and then I woke up.

D'oh!

But yeah, scientist detectives. I don't know what we were trying to figure out.

There were other things that I like about myself that I'm thankful for. Maybe I'll feature them when it's not minutes to suhoor and I still haven't gone to sleep yet!

Back in Boston with New York on my Mind

As salaam alaikum,

So, yesterday my parents and I made the 700-something drive back to Boston. Which meant...I could bring my blender back (random, I know, but small joys)! I know we don't have to fast while traveling, but...I hate breaking my momentum by eating at random as I usually do.

But man, I was delirious when I got back. I bought a quesadilla from Ana's and ate it over 2 hours because I'm not used to eating quite that many calories for iftar. And, it was 10pm. I broke fast with dried fruits and water while at a rest stop somewhere between Framingham and Boston.

So my parents haven't called yet. I hadn't checked my computer in the morning, so I didn't know the temperature or anything as I plan my trek out to where my parents are staying. It's 66F now, which pales in comparison to the 70-something degrees it's got to be right now in Ypsi. It'll warm up to 82F here in Boston, supposedly. We'll see. We're starting out the day overcast. I can't complain...I'm going to have my parents walking around, so it's better that the weather is nice.

Speaking of, I haven't planned out a day for them at all. We may spend today exploring Cambridge, and maybe do something inside, like the Aquarium, tomorrow, since it's supposed to scattered thunderstorm it tomorrow.

But yes, I'm back in Boston, and although I'll miss the comfort of my Sealy Posturpedic mattress at home (it's about 13 years old or so, but it still sleeps like a dream...especially since I've lived away from home for the last 7 years of it's tenure), I did also miss my panoramic view of the Charles and the new familiarity of my own bathroom (which my lovely roommate cleaned).

There is no replacement for Meijer, though, the Michigan-based grocery store. The prices are awesome, and I'd almost move back to Michigan to be near Meijer.

Almost.

Yesterday was unfortunately not a very charitable day for me, astaghfirullah. I wasn't very nice in my mind and in my mouth to certain people. As someone once taught me, during Ramadan, Allah (swt) removes Satan from our influence, so all the bad stuff we think and do is coming from us, things that we need to fix. My attitudes towards my roommates is one, but there are other things that I've discovered I need to fix. Thankfully for me, it's only Ramadan 5.

Editing my cousin's manuscript has been a great task, greater than I anticipated. We'll see if I'm able to finish it.

But for as much as I'm glad that I'm back in Boston...great decisions lay ahead of me. Although by choosing to pursue my MPH, I'm delaying this great decision by another year (alhamdulillah!)...I need to decide where I want to live/train for residency. It's only three years, and if medical school is any indication, those years (save for intern year) will go like *snap* that. And I won't be totally free to explore wherever I am. The big question I'm asking right now is Nowheresville USA vs. Big City Swag.

I'm trying to decide if I want to do rural underserved or urban underserved.

I heard a lot of things during the conference about which programs are better for obstetrics training, and rural programs that are unopposed (meaning that they are taught by only fam med faculty in your own department) claim to have the market cornered on the best training environment for those who are interested in learning procedures. They claim that opposed programs (those in which you serve on internal medicine, peds and OB services in their departments with residents or attendings in that specialty), especially those in academic centers, will relegate you to what they think is appropriate for fam med docs to do, and therefore you won't get your whole skill set and you'll feel like there's a sense of competition. ...whereas most people in urban settings deny that they feel competition and say that you'll have the opportunity to learn all you want to.

Right now, I'm leaning more urban underserved (my top choices right now are Columbia and UCSF...I like different things about each program), and I don't especially have any rural programs in mind. In fact, I didn't visit any programs in the midwest outside of University of Michigan's family medicine residency.

...I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet, though. I'd be likely doing my clinic time in Ypsilanti, the city of my raising. Although I know eventually I'll be coming home...I don't know if now is the time yet. Or ever, really. My education worked out for me, but since sometime in the next 10 years insha'Allah I'll be having children (why not just claim it! Pssh...I'm tired of speculating)...and say I have my first kid in 10 years, so 2020 (wow). They'd be going to school in 2025...that would be kindergarten. Subhan'Allah. What is a 2025 world going to look like?

Insha'Allah He grants me life to the age where I bear children and live to raise them to this day. Then I'll have many more Ramadans to pray for the state of this world and the children...not my own, but the ones that actually exist now. My little cousins, my little patients and the children I don't see who need it.

If it hasn't been apparent before now, I love children.

So urban underserved...this is the population I'm most in love with. It's the most ethnically diverse, the patients in the city that need help the most. I'm also looking into BU's program and may do an elective there in the upcoming year. Alhamdulillah, I'll have more time to plan for it.

Rural...I don't even know where to begin. Before I'd do a rural program, though, I'd need to have a husband or a fiance who was motivated about working in remote areas, becoming part of a community in Small Town, USA, and who would ultimately move with me to this area...because it's hard enough for me in Boston as a single Muslimah, no way I'm moving somewhere where I'd probably be the only single Muslimah for miles.

I also like the urban, university-based programs because...I love the city (yes, even New York, The Big Nasty, as my mother has called it after my stories of trips there), the residency programs are often more diverse (and I need not be the token minority...I don't mind being the only black person, but please, not the only non-white person. Been there, done that), and the patient population is often more ethnically (if not socioeconomically) diverse.

I'll take it!

So I'm back in Boston with a little bit of New York on my mind. These are decisions that I get to make over the next year. This will definitely be in my du'as.

Well, I probably should get dressed and meet up with the fam. But it's fun to think about the future and insha'Allah all that's in store for me.

{Currently Listening: Empire State of Mind - Jay Z feat. Alicia Keys}

Get Ready for Me, Love, 'Cause I'm a Comer!

As salaam alaikum,

I encourage you to read my previous entry, "A Rose Much Desired," which is about the story I'm currently writing...A Rose Much Desired. Why? Because I'm shamelessly plugging, that's why. One of these days, I'll actually finish my first round of edits so I can actually finish this thing...

So, my roommate and I have finally found something to bond over...we've been watching "Glee" nightly. Last night, we watched at least three episodes back to back. We ended on the half-season finale, "Sectionals." Man, that show takes me back to my favorite part of high school (the only part I miss, actually)...band. I ended high school in the symphony band, having participated in both concert band and concert orchestra in my time in the band. I pretty much stopped improving after junior year, though, and I put my clarinet aside to pursue my pre-medical education.

...but I'm still absolutely in love with performance. There's nothing like getting on stage as part of an ensemble, hearing how your part interacts with someone else's, hearing an end result that's different every time, depending on how many parts you have in your head at once. It's amazing.

Anyway, "Glee" actually does remind me of my high school experience, having come up in the Midwest. They gave shout outs to pop and Cedar Point, which my roommate knows nothing about.

I went to Cedar Point's website and found out that they haven't constructed any new rides since I was last there 7 years ago. Amazing...for a while, they had a new ride every year.

Anyway, in the episode "Sectionals," Lea Michele (as Rachel Berry) sings "Rain on My Parade," which was originally performed by Barbara Streisand in the Broadway musical and film "Funny Girl." And I listened to the actual lyrics of the song, and I thought, hey, this is actually a really good song.

By the way...I like musicals, a lot. I think I'm going to spend my entire summer watching musicals.




I read about Omar Sharif after I watched this clip. He co-starred with Barbara Streisand. I didn't realize that he was born Catholic and converted to Islam in 1955! That's super cool! Converts rule, and I'm not saying that because I come from a family of converts...or maybe I am!

"Get ready for me, love, 'cause I'm a comer! I simply got to march, my heart's a drummer..."

That's cool. I'm going to start saying that whenever anyting gets me down. I'm just going to keep going, every day...

Haha, I know it's really corny, but it's true, at least for me...

Wasalaam.

Reform Time?

As salaam alaikum,

I'm sitting here at the TMEC, trying to study cardio, realizing how long it's been since I've read an EKG. It's been about 10 months since I read an EKG well during my medicine rotation. You rarely get a chance to read EKGs in the other rotations. So that's the first few pages of the First Aid cardio section, and I'm recalling how good I used to be at reading EKGs and feeling like, at the same time, I may have to take an L for today for studying because my mind is in too many places right now...

...and then I feel my phone vibrate, ring. I think I know who it is, and it is her. It's my roommate. And I remind myself what I've been telling myself for a while...be nice to her.

But then when I answered, it felt more natural. I was like, "Hey! What's up?"

Have you ever felt something come from within you that you weren't expecting? Yeah, that's what happened then. I was sincerely nice, sincerely happy to hear from her, talk to her.

And I was like, whoa, I just spent the last couple of months genuinely annoyed by her...what changed?

This is the first month in 13 months that I have not been doing some sort of clinical rotation.

This scares me, kind of, a lot. Did I become an evil person after doing my rotations?

It's hard to tell when the change actually took place. If I were to guess, I'd suppose it happened during surgery...reason #2409 why I will absolutely not go into surgery. I always said that surgery made me forget Allah (swt) in a way I never have ever before in my life...for hours at a time in the OR, the attending was the one that I answered to, and all my thoughts and feelings would surround getting the next pimp answer correct, all of my energy was put into that, for the love of my grade...instead of me learning and experiencing the wonders of the human body and the human intellect, for the love of God. So that was one thing...

I think surgery also made me a meaner, less patient person, and that just caused my roommate to annoy me. I needed a break from the clinical sphere, and so I got that, and I cooled down, more and more...and now, with ample time to think things through, I'm becoming a nicer person to her, and I genuinely like her more, as she is.

And it startles me because...I'm not done with experiences like these. I'm going to go into training, and I'm not going to have the luxury of months off for break. I'll get maybe a week at a time, and maybe two tough rotations back to back, all of these things. I won't have the break I have now to become a more normal person. I don't want to become evil!

I've been reflecting for a few months now that I used to be a nicer person...I feel like I'm getting back to it, but seriously, I don't want the world of medicine to render me evil spirited, impatient, intolerant...

So okay, I have a year off...it's time to reform. I need to learn how to organize my space and time better so that I have a better space and time for devotion and worship, for self-reflection, no matter how pressed for time I am. I can't let my spirituality fall to the wayside like I have so many times throughout medical school. It's not cool.

I also need to be honest with myself, about where I am spiritually, religiously, and where I need help. I need help with most things. I have been needing for a long time someone to talk to, real time, about these issues...someone older and someone my age. I need a big sib in Islam, I think, someone preferably in medicine to help me navigate my life in Islam in residency, in practice. I've been going at things in life alone for a long time...I need a Muslim counselor that I can tell my life's story to, someone who will listen and help me organize everything and go forward from here in a productive way...

Because what bothered me the most about how my roommate annoyed me is that...I never used to be like this. One of my greatest attributes was that I was nice, "charitable" as I call it, even when people weren't the nicest or the most considerate back. I recognize that part of my change is self-preservation, but I liken my not being nice to my roommate as...I don't know, the sign of the complete degradation of my character and spirit, that I'd lost myself in a world of little redeeming value, and that if I don't reform soon, that's the world I'm going to live in...for time.

So, yes, it's time to reform. Alhamdulillah I realized it at this point before it got too far...