Ideas are Bullet Proof

Ever been so consumed by an idea that it was all you could think about?
Ever try to trace back the sinewy web of that idea to its very beginning, to when it was just a mere afterthought?
Ever feel like the idea was literally growing bigger and bigger, until it filled your entire head, until you practically choked on it each time you parted your lips in speech?
Ever feel like the idea was contaminating your brain, so much so that it was the first thing on your mind when you wake and the last thing on your mind when you slumber?
Ever have an idea so venomous, that with every systole and diastole, the poison coursed through your veins?
Ever try talking about it to your friends? You start off with your usual, "So I was thinking again..." and you see the weariness in their eyes, and you can tell that they've heard more than enough of your "idea".
"You think about this too much," and they wave your words away and shake their head.
And you sit there speechless, feeling helpless.
Sometimes it gets better. You'll busy yourself with other things. The idea hasn't disappeared all together, but it's not as bad anymore. You still see it in your peripheral vision, and you keep an eye on it, almost anxiously.
And just when you think you have everything under control, it sneaks up on you and spreads into your neural network, like a drop of ink in a glass of water.

Ideas are bullet proof, but sometimes, do you wish they weren't?

Photo Cred goes to ~hermio.

Head Above The Water

Dearest friend,


You’ll always find another. 

You think you won’t, but trust me, you will. He might break your heart, he might not be right for you, he might not be who you thought he was. But the thing is, love is as much logic and reason as it is blind faith. Perhaps it is more of the former than the latter. If you go into a relationship blinded by your emotions you might as well cross a busy intersection with your hands over your eyes. Your relationship might be drowning you in your own emotions, you might get lost in your feelings for him, but that’s why it’s so important that you keep your head above the water. 

Please keep your head above the water.

This lovey-dovey I-can’t-get-enough-of-you phase won’t last forever, it will fade with use. Its important that there is some substance underneath all that glitter in your relationship.

But if there isn’t…  Then perhaps he isn't right for you. 

Letting go is difficult. Especially for a Muslimah. You go through your life for twenty-some years abstaining from anything that could potentially lead you down the wrong road, and you answered everyone’s inquisitive glances with patience, a simple, “No thanks, I’ll wait for the right one.” And when you finally are in a halal relationship, you become so absorbed in everything that comes with it. Everything you were denied before becomes halal for you, and it becomes so overwhelming that you can't even even wrap your mind around it, and you think to yourself, “He’s the one”, and your heart beat echoes your thoughts - no, it confirms them. He's the one you've been waiting for, he's the right one for you.

...but then things fall apart, as they sometimes have the tendency of doing. And you’re left picking up broken pieces of memories you had together, and the shards of your broken heart scratch your palms as you try to pick them off the floor. And you think to yourself you’ll never find another one. No, you’ll never find another like him.

It’s funny, the term ‘human’ in Arabic is ‘ensan’ and it comes from the word ‘nasa’ meaning ‘forgot’. 

How you’ve lived up to your name, oh ensan! 

Have you forgotten so quickly all your previous crushes? Have you forgotten the first time a boy tore your heart in two and handed you the pieces? Have you forgotten how you swore you would never recover, how you would surely die of this heart break? Have you forgotten how you cried, how you said there isn’t another like him in the world? Have you forgotten the ache in your bones every time you saw him thereafter, knowing he wasn’t meant for you?

But oh ensan, have you forgotten how strong you are?

More importantly, have you forgotten how you moved on?

Picture sorta unrelated. I just thought it was cute.

I could have died tonight.

And I could have died last night, too.

Or the night before that.

And I could die tomorrow.

Allah knows best.

I don’t even know where to begin, and I apologize in advance if this narrative seems jumbled, because honestly, that’s how my thoughts are right now.

I lost my debit card sometime between last Thursday and Sunday morning so I went to my bank around 2:30PM to get a new one. Since I was in the neighborhood, I went home with intention of taking a nap before having to leave to pick up my sister because I was literally falling asleep at the red lights, but I figured I should call my dad first because I had a missed call from him. I spoke to him for a few minutes, and he asks me if I was busy, if I could go get kunafa from Clifton. I figured, okay, I’ll just grab a coffee on my way out.

So I leave the house and go to Clifton. And it’s crowded, and the gentleman asks me if I could wait 15 minutes because he has to make more kunafa. So I sit down and try to memorize Quran but I’m just so freaking sleepy, so I literally sat there and stared from the television set to my phone.

Thirty minutes pass, and the kunafa isn’t ready yet, and he comes out and apologizes to me a million times, and asks if I can wait ten more minutes, just ten more minutes, and I tell him it’s okay, I can wait.

Ten minutes later he comes out and looks at me and says, “You have the worst luck today. The kunafa I just made is burnt because the guy didn’t dry the water off the pan properly. I know you’re gonna kill me, bas ma3lesh, gimme exactly five minutes.”

I finally leave the store with the kunafa around 5:50, by which time my sister is blowing up my phone with texts asking where I was, because her class ended early.

I get on Route 3, take 21 South towards Newark, and I’m driving like a psycho. Not because I’m late, but because I just drive like a psycho when I’m tired (bad combination, no?).

Now pay attention to this next part, because this is where things get really bad.

I get to Newark by 6:30, but it’s still like 20 minutes to get to SHU. I’m driving on Raymond Blvd, and I remember seeing a red Nissan Maxima in the lane next to mine, and I sped up a little because I thought it was Amanee, but it wasn’t, but anyway.

I’m driving in the left lane, and it’s a four-lane street. The light’s green, and the cars in front of me all have their left blinker lights on, and they’re all waiting to make a left turn, and I’m stuck behind them. And the light was green. So I’m getting impatient, so I put my right blinker on so I can switch into the right lane. And I check my right side view mirror. But the car in the right lane is coming too fast, and it’s too close for me to get in front of, so I think to myself, I’ll just let that car pass and I’ll switch into the lane right behind it. It was an old car, nothing too fancy, still box-shaped, reminiscent of the early 90s. It was grey, or maybe light blue, but they don’t make cars in light blue, so it was probably grey.

In the movies, they make these moments seem like they pass by in slow motion.

I’m here to tell you that life isn’t like in the movies.

Everything happened so quick. I could have blinked and missed it.

I was looking at the sidewalk to my right, and there were two people standing there by the curb. White female, mid-twenties, a little chubby, taller than the male, wearing jeans and one of those poofy waist-length jackets. She had light colored hair, which was pulled back into a pony tail. She had her phone in her hand. She was looking down the street, towards me, in the direction of the oncoming cars, if you follow. The other person standing with her was a black male, really thin, dark jeans, a dark cap, and also wearing a black poofy jacket, but his was longer than the female’s. He was standing with his back to me, he couldn’t have seen it coming.

There were plenty of other people on the sidewalk, I’m sure, but I noticed these two because they were standing closest to me, just a lane separating us. I noticed them because they were talking loudly. I could hear them, because I had rolled down my windows an inch because the heat was making me drowsy. I noticed them because suddenly, the girl started screaming and she bent her knees slightly in a brace. Then she turned around to run, I’m assuming, but she didn’t have time to get far. The guy, he didn’t even see it coming.

I’m sitting there in my car, stationary because I’m waiting for the car in the right lane to pass me so I can switch into the right lane.

And that car? The car that looked old and boxy? Like a car from an early 90s movie? That car drove onto the curb. The front wheels jumped up from making the contact with the sidewalk, and the car kept going. That car hit a light pole, and the light pole fell. And since this is ghetto Newark, there were black trash bags on the sidewalk. The car ran through some of those as well.

And that car? It hit those two people that were standing on the curb. It hit the girl and the guy and it literally sent them flying a few feet down the sidewalk.

And that car? It hit into the building on the corner, and I watched the entire front half of that car fold in against the building, as easily as you would crush a plastic cup against between your palms.

And the scary part is that I watched the whole thing from the passenger side window. The smell of the powder from the air bags drifted in through my open windows, and it was strong enough to make my throat itch and my eyes water.

And that girl, she was laying there on the floor, and her friend, the guy, he was half covered with a garbage bag. The girl moved a little, but the guy was still.

People in the streets started screaming. Someone shouted, “Call 911!” and before I knew it, everyone on that block was holding a cell phone to their ear.

A bus had just turned into the street we were in. The driver saw the broken lamp post laying horizontally across the street, the car crushed against the building, and the hordes of people swarming the area, and he started backing the bus out of that street mad fast.

I was still sitting there, with my foot on the brake, in the middle of a freaking car wreck. I pulled over a few feet ahead and opened my car door, and I stood there, leaning against my car, staring dumbly. There was so much glass. Impossible for all that glass to be just the windshield. It was everywhere. I took a picture, but it didn’t come out very good, my hand was shaking.

I could still smell the air bag powder, it was making me nauseous. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that smell.

And then the person closest to me, who was facing the car accident, turned around and looked at me. She had one hand crossed over her chest, her other hand still had her phone in it. She stared at me for a second and the said, “You are one lucky girl.”

Waves of terror washed over me, and I felt the hair on my scalp stand up, I swear it, and I was so freaking cold. I got back in my car and I just sat there. It was 6:38PM.

It happened in less than eight minutes, the actual crash was probably only a minute long. Two people might be dead, and it only took a minute. Allahu a’lam, maybe it took even less.

And oh my god, the driver. Would he live? Was it a he or a she?

Were there kids in that car?

How am I supposed to react? What is the behavior protocol for someone who just brushed against death?

That could have been me. That car could have hit mine. I was planning on switching into that lane. What if I had gotten where I was a few seconds early and switched into that lane in front of that car. Would the driver have rear ended me, an impact strong enough to snap my neck? Or what if I hadn’t made into the lane in time and the driver T-boned my car? Yeah, it would have been the passenger side that got hit, but it would be my side that would hit the ground first if my car had flipped onto its side.

I put my seat belt on and I drove away.

And then I drove past NJIT. Would Dean Jack Gentul send out an e-mail to the student body, with subject line “Sad News” and inform every one of my sudden death?

I drove past UMDNJ, and the ambulances were pulling out of the parking lot. It was a strange feeling, knowing exactly where they were going and for what reason.

And then I started crying. I cried because I missed fajr this morning, and I missed it on three of the five school day mornings of last week. I cried because I wasted so much time last night. I cried because I should have been memorizing Quran instead of watching mindless television on Friday. I cried because I was so scared. I cried because I wasn’t ready to die.

How foolish, how arrogant, of me to wake up this morning thinking I’d be alive to see the next.

I won't be going into photography.

Fly Me Out To Spain

I think, if ever given the opportunity, Spain would be at the top of my list for places to see. Places to be. And for some reason, this makes me feel slightly guilty.

Alhambra

Andalus

Alhambra Palace

Andalus

Avila, Castile

Barcelona

Cordoba Mosque

Granada

Ibizia

Menorca

Toledo

"Puede uno desear demasiado de algo bueno?" - Don Quixote.

Sigh.

To all my beautiful, amazing, and unique sisters.

Don't be one of those girls whose wish upon a shooting star or at 11:11 is wasted on someone who doesn't care. How can you place your trust in something as fleeting and evanescent as a shooting star? Or something as ridiculous as time? If you want something - or someone - ask Allah; He is Eternal and He knows best. But until then, guard your heart, the same way you would a jewel. After all, what's the difference?

Wallahi I love you all for the sake of Allah. <3

That's how I roll.

Oscar Wilde once said...

Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!

For the complete poem, click here.

Couldn't have said it better.

Narcissism At Its Best ;)

I like making numbered lists. I also like dividing by zero. Yeah, I know. I'm living on the edge, sonnnnnnnnnn.

Honestly though, I'm narcissistic like mad. So I'mma sit here and tell you twenty five things about myself, while you sit there and say, "Cool story bro." And then I'mma be all like, "Whatever, I don't like you anyway."

1. I'm not an optimist, but I'm not a pessimist either (hello happy medium?). I like to think of myself as a realist. It is what it is.

2. As much as I complain about NJIT, I can't imagine myself being any where else.

3. I love scary movies. LOVE THEM.

4. I'm not always an angry person, but I guess I have a short fuse sorta. I don't get angry easily (actually, alhamudlilah, I seldom get angry), but when I do, I go from zero to FURIOUS instantly. And then it takes a while for me to stop being so furious. :\

5. I inhale books. Seriously, I absolutely love reading. That stuff is my anti-drug. R|E|A|D|I|N|G. lol.

6. The first thing that captures my attention is a sense of humor. I can't tell you how many times I've been in a situation where a person is completely invisible to me, and then out of no where, s/he says something hilarious, and they actually come alive. And then I go, "Sup. I like you. You're cool people." And then I wink at them.

7. I'm the WORST, absolute WORSTTTTTT at staying in touch with people. :\ My mom thinks I'd make a great serial killer because of how much I keep to myself. -.- SHE'S WRONG. I WOULDN'T KILL ANYBODY. LIKE MAYBE JUST TWO PEOPLE. BUT THATS IT.

8. Just for the record, I wouldn't kill anybody. What the hell? Why would I kill someone??

9. You know how sometimes you walk out of a building and you start walking in a certain direction, and then you remember that you're supposed to be walking in the OPPOSITE direction? But you don't want people to think you're crazy, so instead, you have to pretend to look at your watch or pull out your cell phone and talk to some non-existent person on the other end and be like, "Oh, is the meeting NOW?! Okay I'm on my way!" and then change directions. Because like, that would be a little weird if you're walking one way and then suddenly do a 180 and walk in the opposite direction. It happened to me today, so I'm just mentioning it.

10. I hate those elevator rides where the other person has to pull out his or her cell phone and check it. Like seriously, you KNOW you didn't get any texts in the 3 seconds you've been in here. You KNOW it. I know it. Stop playin'.

11. If I'm running late, there's a 90% chance that everything that can go wrong, will. Sweet.

12. I like poetry. :3

13. One day, I'm gonna take my husband, a telescope, and a sketch book to the mountains and just star gaze and draw freaking Saturn man. Insha'Allah. I just find cosmology and astrology very fascinating. I like looking at the night sky. I could do it for hours.

14. Yeah, I'd love to get married some day insha'Allah lol. Otherwise I the husband part mentioned in the previous bullet wouldn't exactly work out. And I'd hate to go star gazing alone. :(

15. Wow. I can't even think of twenty five things about me. By the way, in case you didn't catch it, when I said I was narcissistic, I was joking. I'm really not. I do that a lot by the way - joke around.

16. I don't panic. I dunno, it just doesn't happen with me. Alhamdulilah, I'm able to think under pressure and stressful situations pretty well. My dad's like that. My mom? THE OPPOSITE. lol. She freaks out over the tiniest things, and I'm just like, "Calm down bro. There. Problem solved." :P

17. I hate feeling awkward or being in awkward situations. The other day I was standing with a friend and then her husband-to-be came by and he was asking her something, but while he was talking to her, he was kinda holding her hand and she was leaning into him and I was just like, "WHOA GUYS I'M STILL HERE, HAHA, JOKE'S ON ME." But my pleas went unnoticed and I was scared the public displays of affection would get a little bit too awkward. So then I was like, "Alright, laterz!" and she was like, "Wait Nehal, he's just asking me something real quick. So sorry." So I had to stand there and wallow in my awkwardness and twiddle my thumbs and stare at my shoes until they finished talking. PLEASE DON'T DO THIS TO ME. I REEEEEALLY CAN'T STAND THE AWKWARDNESS. ITS TORTURE TO ME, HONESTLY.

18. Seriously fam, I see public displays of affection and I run the other way. It just makes me feel shy for the person(s) and whatever. Its one of the reasons why I don't like chick flicks. I don't wanna sit there and watch a movie where I have to blush and look away every few minutes. That sucks!

19. This was my age ten days ago.

20. This is my age now. I feel old as hell. I've been alive for two decades. TWO DECADES. And what do I have to show for it? What have I done with my life?

21. This is how old I will be in 356 days, if I live that long insha'Allah.

22. I've lost interest. Pretend I wrote something here.

23. And here.

24. And here.

25. And here.

Jihad Al-Nafs, Take One

[A scorching afternoon in the middle of the summer. It’s a week day and Nehal is headed to her class.]

NAFS [a little ticked off because of the weather]: We should just skip class and go to B&N. It's air conditioned there and we can catch up on that book we started yesterday.

BRAIN: C'mon Nafs, we have an exam next week, we need to go to class. Besides, it's only twice a week and it's only a few hours long.

NAFS [snorts]: Yeah, THREE hours long. Why'd you sign up for this dumb class anyway?

BRAIN: Because so-and-so said it’s easier in the summer.

HEART: Ooh, I like so-and-so! She's so nice.

BRAIN: Legs, walk faster.

LEGS: Aight.

NAFS: Not too fast, I hate the slapping noise flip flops make when you walk too fast wearing them. [Embarrassed] See? Now that girl is looking at us.

BRAIN: So what?

NAFS: I don't want people looking!

BRAIN: Why?

NAFS: Stop asking stupid questions.

HEART: I don't think you're stupid, Brain.

BRAIN: Err, thanks. I think.

[Three hours later.]

NAFS: I hate the weather. Now can we go to B&N?

BRAIN: No. We have to go to the car first. Durr.

NAFS: [-.- face] Of course.

HEART: [Suggesting quietly] We should go to that lecture at the masjid.

NAFS: Is the masjid air conditioned?

BRAIN: Don't remember.

NAFS: [rolls eyes] Who's giving the lecture?

BRAIN: Don't remember.

NAFS: [facepalm] Useless!

BRAIN: Oh, wait, I think its such-and-such.

HEART: [brightens] Ooh, I like such-and-such! He's such a great speaker.

NAFS: But we'll miss The Office!

BRAIN: I think I can text Ahmed and tell him to DVR it.

NAFS: What about all that homework we have to do?
HEART: We're going to the lecture.

BRAIN: We're going to the lecture.

NAFS: [frowns] Well fine then!

[In the masjid parking lot.]

EYES: [widen] I SPY JOHN DOE!

NAFS: What? Where?! 

EYES: Right there! He's coming out of his car.

BRAIN: Yup, that's him alright.

HEART: Guys I'm skipping beats.

BRAIN: Eyes, stop staring! You're so embarrassing.

EYES: Sorry.

NAFS: Wait, I wanna see him again!

EYES: [glance towards him again]

BRAIN: Dammit Eyes! What did I say?!

HEART: [nervously] Guys, I’m doing the whole sledge-hammer-out-of-the-chest thing...

BRAIN: Nafs, behave yourself. Heart, calm down bro.

NAFS: Just one more peek, I promise.

BRAIN: [angry] EYES, I SWEAR IF YOU LOOK AGAIN.

EYES: It was just one last look!

BRAIN: [glares at EYES] Legs, get moving. Let's not wait for the lecture to end.

NAFS: [dreamy-like] He's so cute, going to the lecture.

BRAIN: That doesn't make him cute per se. It doesn't affect his appearance at all actually.

NAFS: [-.- face] Wow, really. Really.

BRAIN: [grins] I'm jus' sayin'.

[Enters masjid]

NAFS: Where is he?

BRAIN: Oh haaaail no, we're not looking for him. Eyes, focus on the floor.

EYES: Aye aye! HHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU GUYS GET IT? HAAHAHA ITS FUNNY RIGHT?

HUMOR: Nah, chill.

BRAIN: Hilarious. We better pray sunnah now. Mind, clear yourself.

MIND: Clear!

NAFS: Jooooooohn Doooooooe la la la la!

BRAIN: Sigh. Mind, try again. Nafs, BEHAVE YOURSELF.

NAFS: Okayokayokay. Jeez.

MIND: Clear!

[Prays two rak'ahs]

NAFS [aside to EYES]: You guys see him?

EYES: Heart won't let us look.

NAFS [frowns at HEART]: What's the problemo?

HEART: Listen, you're not the one who does cartwheels when you see him. That stuff is exhausting. And skipping beats is no fun either.

BRAIN: EVERYBODY SHUT UP. Lecture's starting.

[10 minutes later]

EYES: I SAW HIM! JOHN DOE!

NAFS: Where?!

EYES: My peripheral vision spotted his shirt. I don't wanna look though.

BRAIN: Guys, c'mon! This is a really good lecture!

HEART: I agree with Brain.

NAFS: Brain, it's just one glance.

BRAIN: We already had the last glance in the parking lot.

NAFS: Yeah but now we're in the masjid. New rules.

BRAIN: ARE YOU HEARING YOURSELF? We're in the masjid and you're checking out some idiot guy!

HEART: Hey, don’t call him an idiot! I kinda like him...

NAFS: See? Heart's on my side.

HEART: I didn't say that! I'd rather listen to the lecture, that’s all.

NAFS: Ears can listen while Eyes look at him.

EARS: That would be a negative. Everything comes in through one Ear and out of the other. We'll hear, but we won't listen.

NAFS: C'mon Heart. Don't you wanna see him?

BRAIN: Heart, don't listen to Nafs! You know what the right thing to do is!

HEART: I know what the right thing to do is... but it’s just so tempting!

NAFS: It'll be just one glance, Heart. One glance.

BRAIN: Heart, don't do it! You'll feel stupid after wards, you always do!

NAFS: C'mon, it’s not even like you can see his face. You're just looking at the back of his head. For like, two seconds.

BRAIN: Exactly, which is why it’s not worth it.

HEART: Actually, Brain, it's more like looking at his presence. Just the fact that he's there, just a few feet away. That's what Nafs means.

BRAIN: Okay, I don't get this mushy gushy stuff, but his "presence" does nothing for you. What difference does his being there make? What difference does looking at him make? C'mon, Heart! THINK!

HEART: I'm not good at that.

BRAIN: Well I am! Listen to me!

NAFS: Heart, listen to me. It's not haram to take just one glance.

BRAIN: Wow, Nafs, REALLY?! So what's all that lower-your-gaze stuff we've been practicing for the past seven or eight years?!

NAFS: That's only if he's right in front of you.

BRAIN: Heart, are you seriously gonna listen to Nafs?! THIS IS RUBBISH!

HUMOR: No, THIS IS SPARTAAAAA!

BRAIN: Humor, that's enough. Serious business going on over here.

HUMOR: Right. Sorry.

BRAIN: That was funny though, I’ll give you that.

HUMOR: [grins]

HEART: I don't know what to do.

NAFS: Heart, you've already wasted enough time arguing about this. You missed a good five minutes of the lecture as it is. And you know what, if you don't glance at him, you'll spend the rest of the lecture thinking about him and you won't listen to anything at all. You might as well look now so you can salvage the rest of the lecture. Besides, being in love--

HEART: Like. I'm in like. Never use the l-o-v-e word.

NAFS: [raises an eyebrow] Okay, we both know it's love, even Brain can't deny it, but for the sake of argument, we'll say like. Anyway. As I was saying. Being in "like" isn't haram.

BRAIN: But staring at a guy that isn't a mahram is!

NAFS: Are you sure about that?

BRAIN: Well... I don't know the exact fatwa, but this probably falls under the lower-your-gaze canopy. I gotta remember to e-mail the Chaplain and find out. No, that's a weird question to ask. Even though there's that hadith about how you shouldn't be shy when it comes to asking about Islam. Or was it an ayah? No, I'm pretty sure it was a hadith. But still, I'd be too embarrassed to ask a question like that. Hmm. Maybe I'll google it. How would I even word that though? You think Yahoo answers might have a similar question already on there? Maybe I'll--

NAFS: Brain.

BRAIN: What? Oh, my bad.

NAFS: You gotta quit the monologue gig. It freaks us out.

BRAIN: Oh hush! You distracted me! I'm not crazy!

NAFS: I didn't say you were. [to HEART] You've wasted enough time. Just look so you can get back to listening to the lecture.

HEART: [uneasy] I guess you're right.

BRAIN: HEART!

EYES: Ooh, he's so cute, all paying attention and stuff!

BRAIN: [bitter] Eyes, that's enough. Heart, I hope you're happy.

NAFS: Heart is happy, aren't you, Heart?

HEART: [frowning] Doing. Jumping jacks. And. Cart wheels. Can't. Talk. Help. Me?

BRAIN: [glares at NAFS] Why do you have to go and be all... instinctive?! You're an animal, you know that? You're disgusting.

NAFS: [smiles] That's just who I am.

BRAIN: Fine, but you didn't have to pull Heart into this! You know how pliable Heart is!

NAFS: Heart wouldn't have listened if you had a better argument. You need to hit the gym bro. You're getting weak and I'm getting stronger.

BRAIN: [furious] JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE STRONGER DOESN'T MAKE YOU RIGHT.

NAFS: Whoa, calm down bro.

BRAIN: WHAT, YOU'RE GONNA TELL ME WHAT TO DO NOW TOO?!

EYEBROWS: Uh, Brain, calm down. We're like, really squished up into a frown over here.

BRAIN: EVERYBODY JUST SHUT UP. HEART, ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?! HUH?!

HEART: [crestfallen] No...

BRAIN: YOU GOT YOUR TWO SECONDS OF LOOKING AT HIM, DOES THAT MAKE YOU FEEL ANY BETTER?! DOES IT?!

HEART: No...

BRAIN: HOW DOES IT MAKE YOU FEEL THEN?!

HEART: Stupid...

BRAIN: YEAH, I TOLD YOU SO. I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO I TOLD YOU SO!

HEART: I'm sorry.

BRAIN: WHAT'S YOUR APOLOGY GONNA DO FOR US NOW, HUH?! I'M ANGRY AND YOU'RE HURT. DAMMIT WHY DO YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO NAFS? WHEN HAS NAFS EVER STEERED YOU RIGHT?!

HEART: Never...

BRAIN: YEAH, EXACTLY. YOU KNOW WHAT, I'M HAPPY YOU'RE HURT. YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE MAYBE NEXT TIME YOU WANT TO GO ABOUT YOUR SILLY GIRLISH FANTASIES AND LOOK AT THE BACK OF SOME DUDE'S HEAD YOU'LL THINK TWICE ABOUT IT.

EYES: Yeah, actually now that we think about it, it totally wasn't worth it. We saw like, the back of his head. Big deal.

EYEBROWS: You're not helping. Just shut up.

BRAIN: SEE? EVEN EYES AGREE THAT IT WASN'T WORTH IT.

HEART: Okay, okay. I promise next time--

BRAIN: I DON'T WANT WORDS, I WANT ACTION. STOP LISTENING TO NAFS.

NAFS: You guys are totally making me look worse than I really am. Not cool.

BRAIN: SHUT UP, NAFS. NO ONE LIKES YOU.

NAFS: COME AT ME BRO.

BRAIN: I WOULD, BUT I'M TOO SMART TO FIGHT WITH YOU. I KNOW BETTER. UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE HERE. [glances at HEART]

HEART: Okay, I get it!

BRAIN: YOU BETTER.

HUMOR: Why can't we all just get aloooong?

BRAIN: WE'RE JUST HAVING A DISCUSSION--

NAFS: So why are you still yelling?

HUMOR: I wish that I could bake a cake made out of rainbows and smiles and we'd all eat it and be happy.

HEART: lol

NAFS: lol

BRAIN: lol

HEART: I liked that movie.

BRAIN: It was okay I guess.

NAFS: Guys I'm hungry. When is this lecture over?

BRAIN: ZOMG THE LECTURE!! Mind, clear yourself.

MIND: Clear!

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Guys, I’m really happy. I don’t even know what it is, but for the past week or so, I’ve been so overjoyed, I can't even begin to explain it. I guess this isn’t a big deal per se, because I generally don’t consider myself emo or anything, alhamdulilah I have a pretty good life, and I have nothing to complain about.

But this is a different kind of happy. I feel like my heart is two sizes too small for the feelings it’s containing. I guess the whole Mubarak stepping down may have triggered it, but like, I dunno. I dunno!

I was praying Jum’ah (Friday prayer) at the Ghazaly Elementary school this past week and I was sitting there looking at all the little Muslimahs sitting around me in neat rows, with their clean white hijabs and navy blue jumpers and I just felt so powerful. When we stood up to pray and I noticed that the girls on either side of me barely came up to my elbows. And then we started praying and I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the warm tears on my face. Wow, just writing this is making my throat get tight.

I wish I could just bottle up this feeling and keep it on the shelf for a rainy day.

Oh hai, I'm writing a book lawlz.

PREFACE

I can't believe I'm doing this.

This. Writing a book. Writing a book about love.

This goes against everything I believe in! But whatever, I went in this with the intention of reaching the Muslim youth, and if acting like Stephenie Meyer is going to be the only way to do it, then so be it (by the way, what the hell am I supposed to call this book, Fajr??)

Let's have a moment of silence for my last brain cell…

Okay, moment over.

So guys, this is actually a lot more difficult than it sounds by the way. Do you know how hard it is to come up with names for characters? Names that no one you know shares with the said characters? I mean, no offense, but I don't want people to be like, "Hey, you wrote a book about me!" Nah, chill son. I don't even like you.

Lol jk (not really).

Okay, okay, jk!!

Grrrr. Enjoy. Or whatever.

*          *          *

CHAPTER INDEX

Chapter One (Narrator: Layla)

http://thepageshavedried.blogspot.com/p/chapter-1.html

Chapter Two (Narrator: Ziyad)

http://thepageshavedried.blogspot.com/p/chapter-two_12.html

Chapter Three (Narrator Kiran)

http://thepageshavedried.blogspot.com/p/chapter-3.html

INTERLUDE INDEX

Interlude I (Narrator: Layla)

http://thepageshavedried.blogspot.com/p/chapter-two.html

Du'aa: A Flow Chart

So I says, I says, "Hey! That's a great idea!"

I haven't blogged in ages. I'm building an igloo out of all these writer's blocks I've collected over the past few weeks. With the weather we're getting here, an igloo seems like a swell idea. But I digress.

Right, back to the point of this post. I had an aha! moment in the shower like literally twenty minutes ago, no lie.

You ready? Ready?! Okay, here we go!




















What if I wrote a book?




Like legit. But not just any book. I wanna write something that will fall under the Islamic Literature umbrella. To be honest, I'm a little frustrated by today's youth. They worship actors and actresses and listen to trashy music and talk about stupid things and watch retard TV. But can you blame them? My opinion: no. Those poor helpless childre-- LOL, jk DURR you can blame them, those kids should know better, especially the ones that go to an Islamic school. But what if we had better alternatives? Books, for instance?

Imagine an Islam-ified Nancy Drew series? Or Boxcar Children -- but Muslim-ified?

Or better yet... what about something entirely different?

I don't know, maybe its the book worm in me talking, maybe today's youth just don't care for books, good or bad.

I don't even know what I'd write a book about, but I could come up with ideas probably.

I just wanna write a book, so why not make it count? During the Yusuf Estes workshop earlier this month, one of the speakers, Dr. Laurence Brown, mentioned that one thing he noticed about Islam upon his conversion was the lack of Islamic Literature available.

Stupid writer's block. I can't even talk right.

Feedback?

Let me know if you think this is a good idea or a complete waste of time. Especially you, my fellow fourteen-year-old facebook friends.
Let me know what you'd want to read about.
Talk to me.