The end of Summer is near. Im watching Nacho Libre at 9:45 am. Sad, but maybe interesting. This movie only makes me laugh because of the funny accents. Why would you care? I'm not sure. Isn't that what most blogs are these days? Random ramblings about the going ons of life? It's unclear...I just bit my tounge. Ouch. See? :p
The point is- I am writing for the sake of writing. I don't have much to say now only because I have limited my interactions with the world as of late. My life has consisted of brother, sisters, neices, nephews and my dad. [highlight - my dad]
We function as one. As it is in other cultures, such as hispanic for ex, we live breathe and move around eachother. All of our individual plans are influenced by the others. This can sometimes make life stressful. The only way to manage is to take it one day at a time.
The family structure as a group versus individual can pose problems when you are trying to be an individual. But how can one be truly an individual if you are influenced by your family? And how can you grow close to your family if you function solely on your own? I prefer the invasive interactions over the formality that might come with trying to isolate one self in becoming an "individual."
There aren't any people in the world that are as important as your family. Whether you like it or not- blood does make a difference.
The concept of family is subjective. Whom ever you consider family. Make sure to take care of them as they would you.
As much as Im not trying to be lame- I cant help but to think I sound utterly utterly cliche. Oh well. It is what it is. <---(horrible)
Its the truth.
xo,
my.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
In Loving Memory
I have a profound love for the country that I do not know. The country I hail from but have never known, never tasted and felt with my own two hands. But ever since I was a child I have felt it in my heart , beating so strong. I know that this place exists. I also know how it existed, and so happy were the people that were living there. Void of war, but full of love and compassion. Its people are strong willed. They are exuberant, hard working and some of the smartest people I have ever spoken to. Their stories never end. You can sit with any Iraqi- any where on the globe, And be entertained for hours with stories detailing the sounds and smells about this place they grew up in. But now- they feel estranged from that land they still hold so dear to their hearts. It is Iraq. Its a place my parents came from, but one that I never experienced.
Today is the one year anniversary of my mothers passing. Crying - does not suffice, remembering her doesn't take conscious effort. Hearing her voice, and feeling her presence I am used to. Her memory is soaked in my soul. Her words I remember daily. An angel on earth, there are no words to describe what she looks like, or to describe her life. No words are enough for an angel. Yet- even after one year, she is still so alive. Inside of me, I feel her presence. I only wish I could ask her questions about the life she lived. The struggles I face, I wonder if she had the same questions...The curiosity, and the pain.
Iraq is such a huge, yet small part of my identity. I never knew how to answer 'where are you from?' The same patriotism I feel for America, I feel more passionately for Iraq. The human emotion I experience when I think about the place my mother and father spent their younger years releases itself in tears when I hear an Iraqis words in poetry, the writings of both my mother and father. Both of them were poets, writers. The love letters that they shared their entire life, I now hold sacred in a small black box. Bundles of letters and pictures of my parents are spread between my four siblings and I. The adventures across Europe and The United States, Disney Land and the Eiffel Tower. The genuine, bright smile of my glowing mother and her two small children in 1975. Clad in a fur coat, ever so stylish in her kitten heel and perfectly styled hair- I wonder what was she thinking. I inherently sense the immense love she had for my father.
My roots as an Iraqi, I was born with.
I was bred with the intensity and courage to speak for myself as an American.
The two loves I have for America and Iraq seem so separate, yet so alike...
I ran back to the United States after living in the Middle east for reasons which I could not pronounce in the Middle East. In my appearance- it didn't matter. I look like an Arab girl and sound like an American. So who was I to be. I confused others constantly. In turn I confused myself. With Arab social expectations placed upon me because of the superficiality placed on how I look,compared with the standards and rights I knew I was meant to have and be able to practice as a Muslim and an American - I felt with rage in my heart - with the need to express them, the two just could not coincide. How was I to balance both world view points? Lifestyles?
Was I to behave in a manner that I was used to growing up as an American? Or alter my behavior according to how I was 'supposed' to be only because that is how I was projected outwardly? Factually, If I had blonde hair and blue eyes I didn't have to behave the way Arab society expected of me because I would automatically be considered European or American. In respect to my father and to honor my heritage - I chose to embrace it all.
I made some discoveries. I never understood why my mother or father would tell me that I am too harsh, or stubborn. Since the age of 18, I learned to be independent. Before then, I was very dependent on the people around me. I made my own way as I experienced more in life. I learned that I had to speak up, ask questions when I didnt understand and acknowledged that the world wasn't as peachy as I had imagined it to be in my younger and more sheltered days. I created defenses and became more and more jaded towards the emotions that I had once thought would be special and unique. In a traditional Arabs eyes and mind, I maybe was too outspoken. I felt it inwardly and expressed it outwardly- I always thought that was okay, until I went to the middle east and realized that compared to others. I truly was that way- but only as a manifestation of the environment I was bred into.
I was once at the airport in Muscat Oman. I was bitter to come back. I was there for my father only. An old man tried to help me carry my bags that I was completely capable of doing myself. And at his attempt, I immediately assumed that he had ulterior motives. Did it occur to me that he was just trying to be kind? As if I am pre-programmed to think that he is thinking I must be helped because he sees me as attractive, or just simply as a woman. I was reactive and defensive. Looking back, I realize I was unquestionably insensitive and resentful.
These qualms I wished I could have pondered over with my mother... What would she tell me? What would she say or think about the person I have become, and am becoming? Would I be different?
It was meant. And those questions don't matter. Because who I am meant to be has already been decided. I only have the choice to live my best life. She knew this. She would tell me to take it one day at a time, to have faith.
Today is the one year anniversary of my mothers passing. Crying - does not suffice, remembering her doesn't take conscious effort. Hearing her voice, and feeling her presence I am used to. Her memory is soaked in my soul. Her words I remember daily. An angel on earth, there are no words to describe what she looks like, or to describe her life. No words are enough for an angel. Yet- even after one year, she is still so alive. Inside of me, I feel her presence. I only wish I could ask her questions about the life she lived. The struggles I face, I wonder if she had the same questions...The curiosity, and the pain.
Iraq is such a huge, yet small part of my identity. I never knew how to answer 'where are you from?' The same patriotism I feel for America, I feel more passionately for Iraq. The human emotion I experience when I think about the place my mother and father spent their younger years releases itself in tears when I hear an Iraqis words in poetry, the writings of both my mother and father. Both of them were poets, writers. The love letters that they shared their entire life, I now hold sacred in a small black box. Bundles of letters and pictures of my parents are spread between my four siblings and I. The adventures across Europe and The United States, Disney Land and the Eiffel Tower. The genuine, bright smile of my glowing mother and her two small children in 1975. Clad in a fur coat, ever so stylish in her kitten heel and perfectly styled hair- I wonder what was she thinking. I inherently sense the immense love she had for my father.
My roots as an Iraqi, I was born with.
I was bred with the intensity and courage to speak for myself as an American.
The two loves I have for America and Iraq seem so separate, yet so alike...
I ran back to the United States after living in the Middle east for reasons which I could not pronounce in the Middle East. In my appearance- it didn't matter. I look like an Arab girl and sound like an American. So who was I to be. I confused others constantly. In turn I confused myself. With Arab social expectations placed upon me because of the superficiality placed on how I look,compared with the standards and rights I knew I was meant to have and be able to practice as a Muslim and an American - I felt with rage in my heart - with the need to express them, the two just could not coincide. How was I to balance both world view points? Lifestyles?
Was I to behave in a manner that I was used to growing up as an American? Or alter my behavior according to how I was 'supposed' to be only because that is how I was projected outwardly? Factually, If I had blonde hair and blue eyes I didn't have to behave the way Arab society expected of me because I would automatically be considered European or American. In respect to my father and to honor my heritage - I chose to embrace it all.
I made some discoveries. I never understood why my mother or father would tell me that I am too harsh, or stubborn. Since the age of 18, I learned to be independent. Before then, I was very dependent on the people around me. I made my own way as I experienced more in life. I learned that I had to speak up, ask questions when I didnt understand and acknowledged that the world wasn't as peachy as I had imagined it to be in my younger and more sheltered days. I created defenses and became more and more jaded towards the emotions that I had once thought would be special and unique. In a traditional Arabs eyes and mind, I maybe was too outspoken. I felt it inwardly and expressed it outwardly- I always thought that was okay, until I went to the middle east and realized that compared to others. I truly was that way- but only as a manifestation of the environment I was bred into.
I was once at the airport in Muscat Oman. I was bitter to come back. I was there for my father only. An old man tried to help me carry my bags that I was completely capable of doing myself. And at his attempt, I immediately assumed that he had ulterior motives. Did it occur to me that he was just trying to be kind? As if I am pre-programmed to think that he is thinking I must be helped because he sees me as attractive, or just simply as a woman. I was reactive and defensive. Looking back, I realize I was unquestionably insensitive and resentful.
These qualms I wished I could have pondered over with my mother... What would she tell me? What would she say or think about the person I have become, and am becoming? Would I be different?
It was meant. And those questions don't matter. Because who I am meant to be has already been decided. I only have the choice to live my best life. She knew this. She would tell me to take it one day at a time, to have faith.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
To be or ...Just to be.
OK. I'm ready now.
Sometimes having too much too say makes a person not know what to say at all. We go around with so many thoughts in our heads... So much we want to say to the world, so much to confess, proclaim, and so much we desire in life that it becomes overwhelming and you just dont know where to start. So you simply . Dont.
Its a little thing I learned in college when I had a really long tedious paper to do or research I needed to get going on, but I simply wouldn't because the task was so daunting, .. it would take away so much from me, and in the end after I have procrastinated so much about it, I am left with the stress and drama of doing it...It seems like its the only way to get anywhere. leaving it all to the wind and then let it all come crashing out like a stream of random BS, or sometimes not. Sometimes taking that baby step of just starting on a project is half of the progress... then it all ebbs and flows and ebbs and flows...
Its what I have learned about writing, and myself.
Just do it.
I'm alone on 'Christmas Eve' - and although my family never celebrated it when I was growing up- I still have a sense of obligation to myself to neglect my daily routine and do something- anything .
Just because its a holiday that everyone else takes part in regardless of their belief in it?? It seems more like an American tradition for a lot of people more than the meaning of it. If you don't do anything special during this time of year, you inevitably feel like an outsider. Its like an instilled feeling-- or expectation that society puts on people during times like these. What if you dont have any family? What happens when all your friends are with their families... are you just expected to sit around and feel lonely? Just because........ ?
Being with family can be painful for some people. I understand that its not because they dont love them, but sometimes its because we love them so much that its to painful to be around them. The overwhelming sense that these people you grew up with are now all living their own lives. We are all so uninvolved with one another , and its kind of heartbreaking. So we simply avoid it. We go through the acts and motions of being there during the holidays and exchanging smiles and small talk because its what expected. -- regardless of all you have been through together with "these people" . Yea- you are blood.
Being with yourself and enjoying your own company is very important. Its part of self love. But being with other people or a significant other can also suffocate you. Where is the happy balance, and how can one 'keep it real' all through out?
When I was growing up, we never had a Christmas tree or lights or any other the other shenanigans. But my family would still drive around and look at all the elaborate light displays. I would still bring cookies to class in elementary school for all the holiday celebrations. I would celebrate all the holidays everywhere else outside of my own home. My parents were the kind that would drag me and my other three brothers to dinner parties every other weekend. It seemed pretty normal most of the time. The families were almost always Arab. More so, Muslim Arabs. But on one particular cold December night we went to a house with lights and Christmas trees. they were also Arab; Christians. I was so confused as to why or how Arabs - regardless of their religion would have a tree in their house. It never occurred to me that Christian Arabs existed. I asked the little girl at the house why they had a tree . She said it was for Christmas of course. at the time I was skeptical about if she had lied and said they were Muslim and they just wanted to celebrate Christmas- because that is what she had told me, or what were they really??
On the drive home my dad said that they were Muslims, but had a tree because it was just American culture to have a tree up and they were trying to copy everyone else!
Imagine how confused I was. All I knew was that we were Muslim, and didn't celebrate the birth of Jesus.
To say the least, I am still confused. Would it be okay to put up a tree and go along with the traditions of giving and the nine yards of trees and lights - just because it was fun? -Or is it not because Muslims dont believe that they should imitate? What is the real story behind all this Christmas time anyway? We all know that Santa was a fabrication... but why? And who decided that we would celebrate the birth of Jesus like this? Besides, dont Christians believe that he was born in a barn and not under a tree? I was taught that Jesus was born under a tree. A palm tree. A lot of Muslims think that by participating in all the festivities of Christmas that you are committing a sin. -because you are associating the practices with yourself - as a Muslim. We have our holidays, and we should stick to those only. When did other religions, for example... atheists, do they celebrate Christmas? Who decided that? What is celebrated because of the tradition and culture, and what is celebrated because of its true meaning? Will majority of Muslims in America get to that point too?
What is the harm? I do know I celebrate Halloween and Valentines day. Is it because there is no religious significance in those holidays? Or is Halloween a satanic celebration, as some Muslims would say, and I shouldn't have fun with that either? Am I playing with fire? God knows.
I sincerely do wish my friends, and you, have a 'merry Christmas' though. From the bottom of my heart.
xoxo
Sometimes having too much too say makes a person not know what to say at all. We go around with so many thoughts in our heads... So much we want to say to the world, so much to confess, proclaim, and so much we desire in life that it becomes overwhelming and you just dont know where to start. So you simply . Dont.
Its a little thing I learned in college when I had a really long tedious paper to do or research I needed to get going on, but I simply wouldn't because the task was so daunting, .. it would take away so much from me, and in the end after I have procrastinated so much about it, I am left with the stress and drama of doing it...It seems like its the only way to get anywhere. leaving it all to the wind and then let it all come crashing out like a stream of random BS, or sometimes not. Sometimes taking that baby step of just starting on a project is half of the progress... then it all ebbs and flows and ebbs and flows...
Its what I have learned about writing, and myself.
Just do it.
I'm alone on 'Christmas Eve' - and although my family never celebrated it when I was growing up- I still have a sense of obligation to myself to neglect my daily routine and do something- anything .
Just because its a holiday that everyone else takes part in regardless of their belief in it?? It seems more like an American tradition for a lot of people more than the meaning of it. If you don't do anything special during this time of year, you inevitably feel like an outsider. Its like an instilled feeling-- or expectation that society puts on people during times like these. What if you dont have any family? What happens when all your friends are with their families... are you just expected to sit around and feel lonely? Just because........ ?
Being with family can be painful for some people. I understand that its not because they dont love them, but sometimes its because we love them so much that its to painful to be around them. The overwhelming sense that these people you grew up with are now all living their own lives. We are all so uninvolved with one another , and its kind of heartbreaking. So we simply avoid it. We go through the acts and motions of being there during the holidays and exchanging smiles and small talk because its what expected. -- regardless of all you have been through together with "these people" . Yea- you are blood.
Being with yourself and enjoying your own company is very important. Its part of self love. But being with other people or a significant other can also suffocate you. Where is the happy balance, and how can one 'keep it real' all through out?
When I was growing up, we never had a Christmas tree or lights or any other the other shenanigans. But my family would still drive around and look at all the elaborate light displays. I would still bring cookies to class in elementary school for all the holiday celebrations. I would celebrate all the holidays everywhere else outside of my own home. My parents were the kind that would drag me and my other three brothers to dinner parties every other weekend. It seemed pretty normal most of the time. The families were almost always Arab. More so, Muslim Arabs. But on one particular cold December night we went to a house with lights and Christmas trees. they were also Arab; Christians. I was so confused as to why or how Arabs - regardless of their religion would have a tree in their house. It never occurred to me that Christian Arabs existed. I asked the little girl at the house why they had a tree . She said it was for Christmas of course. at the time I was skeptical about if she had lied and said they were Muslim and they just wanted to celebrate Christmas- because that is what she had told me, or what were they really??
On the drive home my dad said that they were Muslims, but had a tree because it was just American culture to have a tree up and they were trying to copy everyone else!
Imagine how confused I was. All I knew was that we were Muslim, and didn't celebrate the birth of Jesus.
To say the least, I am still confused. Would it be okay to put up a tree and go along with the traditions of giving and the nine yards of trees and lights - just because it was fun? -Or is it not because Muslims dont believe that they should imitate? What is the real story behind all this Christmas time anyway? We all know that Santa was a fabrication... but why? And who decided that we would celebrate the birth of Jesus like this? Besides, dont Christians believe that he was born in a barn and not under a tree? I was taught that Jesus was born under a tree. A palm tree. A lot of Muslims think that by participating in all the festivities of Christmas that you are committing a sin. -because you are associating the practices with yourself - as a Muslim. We have our holidays, and we should stick to those only. When did other religions, for example... atheists, do they celebrate Christmas? Who decided that? What is celebrated because of the tradition and culture, and what is celebrated because of its true meaning? Will majority of Muslims in America get to that point too?
What is the harm? I do know I celebrate Halloween and Valentines day. Is it because there is no religious significance in those holidays? Or is Halloween a satanic celebration, as some Muslims would say, and I shouldn't have fun with that either? Am I playing with fire? God knows.
I sincerely do wish my friends, and you, have a 'merry Christmas' though. From the bottom of my heart.
xoxo
Friday, July 11, 2008
Buildings and Mountains
I have a random memory of going to a particular park as a child. The image is so clear. And so 1980’s. My family and I would drive up a long winding road that leads to a large spacious grassy area surrounded by trees. In the corner on the right side near tall pine trees there was this lonely rusty slide. It had one of those hoods when you climb up the stairs. It was such a big deal when we were kids to climb a tall ladder and slide down. Whe nyou are so small the slide looks so big. I even remember my older brother telling me that I shouldn’t try that slide because it was too big for me and I couldn’t do it. Hahaha. Now I look back and wonder if he said that because he wanted to protect me, or he wanted to make fun of the fact that I was smaller and he was superior to me. How I precieved it as a child is a whole different story…..:)
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
The Grill House
Its bout time for a new post people. I have these urges to write, and it keeps getting postponed. Maybe I just have to realize that its impossible to document every interesting thing about Oman.
My latest news:
I went to a wedding a few weekends ago. It was at a five star hotel. It was extremely glamourous, luxurious and most definately- ridiculously expensive. I wore a dress that made me feel like a princess. Pictures are attached. Ive learned that dressing up for a wedding in the middle east is about making sure that no one else has ever seen what you put on. Its about being creative, not about stylish or trendy or classic. I saw some of the most gorgeous dresses, and also some of the ugliest makeup hair and dresses ive ever seen. I cant imagine how some women think that layering 15lbs of makeup and glitter, and wearing dresses that literally blind me with colors and beads automatically means that they look good. The wedding was entirely women, regardless my dress covered me from head to toe, and have never felt so sexy. Well- maybe on a few occasions :p
As ive mentioned before, I still feel like an observer and never part of the crowd. These people come from a completely diffent background. I do identify with it, and understnad it. Yet- I dont feel like I am striving to live up to any standards etc. I am glad that I can still be myself here. It took me some time to establish this to others. It didnt matter. Naturally, we are happier when we are true to ourselves.
The bride walked in looking like a Swarovski goddess. She was so nervous, as cameras and projectors were all on her. She wasnt smiling- just thinking about tripping, or the trail of her dres being in line. She literally looked like a dear in headlights.
I usually get emotional at weddings- even if I dont know the bride or her family. This time- I didnt feel a thing... Until I saw the brides sisters hug and greet her, and help her carry the trail of her dress. They were in tears, and all I could think of was my mother... and my sisters.
My very good friend of royalty invited me to her private beach the other day. When we arrived, I thought I had walked into a scene of the OC, or Nip Tuck, or or or or !!!! (ive never watched the OC-its the first thing that came to my mind :p) The beach house, which mind you, no one lives there on a daily basis- was ginormous. the back of the house has a pool a huge foyer that couuld easily hold over 1000 people. It looks over the top of the mountain, and below is the whitest sand and beach ive seen in Oman. the tide was high and the waves were rising. its completely isolated and the silence there is deafening. The crashing of waves on the rocks is all you hear, and the sun setting in the horizon is all you see - as if coming straight out of a Monet painting.
The water was cool, as I sat there staring at the sand, I noticed microscopic creatures lurking in the sand. If you stare hard enough you see that moist sand is constantly moving.
The water and sand gave me better exfoliation than I could have ever gotten at the worlds greatest spa.
I had lunch buffet at the Intercontinental hotel with my dad this past weekend. Specifically so I could eat raw fish. Dipped in soy sauce and a tad of horseradish, along with caviar and salmon eggs. My dad and I dont usually eat this extravagantly, but we deserved a treat.- Making sure that we got our moneys worth. It was a pretty penny!
Dad is doing well. Its rare that we get emotional about my late mother together. But we both know that we are thinking of her always. Its just one of those things that are unsaid, and deeply felt. But sometimes, the flood gates open.
My time here has been fulfilling as I have decided to take back my world view of positivity, enlightenment, love, and acceptance.
I always have more, im saving it for later.
Love and Loyalty,
My latest news:
I went to a wedding a few weekends ago. It was at a five star hotel. It was extremely glamourous, luxurious and most definately- ridiculously expensive. I wore a dress that made me feel like a princess. Pictures are attached. Ive learned that dressing up for a wedding in the middle east is about making sure that no one else has ever seen what you put on. Its about being creative, not about stylish or trendy or classic. I saw some of the most gorgeous dresses, and also some of the ugliest makeup hair and dresses ive ever seen. I cant imagine how some women think that layering 15lbs of makeup and glitter, and wearing dresses that literally blind me with colors and beads automatically means that they look good. The wedding was entirely women, regardless my dress covered me from head to toe, and have never felt so sexy. Well- maybe on a few occasions :p
As ive mentioned before, I still feel like an observer and never part of the crowd. These people come from a completely diffent background. I do identify with it, and understnad it. Yet- I dont feel like I am striving to live up to any standards etc. I am glad that I can still be myself here. It took me some time to establish this to others. It didnt matter. Naturally, we are happier when we are true to ourselves.
The bride walked in looking like a Swarovski goddess. She was so nervous, as cameras and projectors were all on her. She wasnt smiling- just thinking about tripping, or the trail of her dres being in line. She literally looked like a dear in headlights.
I usually get emotional at weddings- even if I dont know the bride or her family. This time- I didnt feel a thing... Until I saw the brides sisters hug and greet her, and help her carry the trail of her dress. They were in tears, and all I could think of was my mother... and my sisters.
My very good friend of royalty invited me to her private beach the other day. When we arrived, I thought I had walked into a scene of the OC, or Nip Tuck, or or or or !!!! (ive never watched the OC-its the first thing that came to my mind :p) The beach house, which mind you, no one lives there on a daily basis- was ginormous. the back of the house has a pool a huge foyer that couuld easily hold over 1000 people. It looks over the top of the mountain, and below is the whitest sand and beach ive seen in Oman. the tide was high and the waves were rising. its completely isolated and the silence there is deafening. The crashing of waves on the rocks is all you hear, and the sun setting in the horizon is all you see - as if coming straight out of a Monet painting.
The water was cool, as I sat there staring at the sand, I noticed microscopic creatures lurking in the sand. If you stare hard enough you see that moist sand is constantly moving.
The water and sand gave me better exfoliation than I could have ever gotten at the worlds greatest spa.
I had lunch buffet at the Intercontinental hotel with my dad this past weekend. Specifically so I could eat raw fish. Dipped in soy sauce and a tad of horseradish, along with caviar and salmon eggs. My dad and I dont usually eat this extravagantly, but we deserved a treat.- Making sure that we got our moneys worth. It was a pretty penny!
Dad is doing well. Its rare that we get emotional about my late mother together. But we both know that we are thinking of her always. Its just one of those things that are unsaid, and deeply felt. But sometimes, the flood gates open.
My time here has been fulfilling as I have decided to take back my world view of positivity, enlightenment, love, and acceptance.
I always have more, im saving it for later.
Love and Loyalty,
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