and then there was one

I feel the tidal waves of exhaustion overcoming my otherwise calm mind. I know that before I can get anywhere with what I want to say I will have given up on my words and fallen fast asleep--hopefully not still in a upright position on this couch.

Today I pushed myself out of my comfort zone. I installed my cable and internet by myself. I went to a party at friends' house in downtown by myself. And now I look around the house and reflect on my past, my present, and what may potentially be my future...by myself.

Just an existential moment at midnight.

APSI Training: Pre Gaming

This morning being awake did not agree with me. So I dutifully fell back asleep. No worries about driving to Fayetteville later in the day. That would have to wait. Around 10:00 I woke up with a laundry list of tasks.
1) do actual laundry
2) clean the dreadful litter box
3) pack, pack, pack
4) locate twin sized sheets and comforter from my parents (where the yesteryear gear lives)
5) shop for snacks and traveling supplies
6) eat lunch

Around one I realized lunch was in order. Delicious Vietnamese lemongrass tofu and thai iced tea did the trick, and somehow, after shopping, and the trip to the gas station...followed by a three store filled hunt for a transmitter for my cd playerless car, I got on the road. I should add that I had just an hour to make the deadline for check in at the campus where the training was going to happen.

Fast forward to now; skip the two hour drive (I swear it took less time with my cruise control speeding); skip one confused Saira standing in a parking lot, wondering what "quad" building I needed to enter; skip the bothersome trek with way too much stuff for a four day trip. These dorms are compact--dare I say cute, even? I met my roommate next door, a 23 year old statistics teacher from Chicago. I am impressed that this may be a nation wide event, and that I didn't need to hop on a plane to get here. I offered "Jessica" a car ride should she ever need one, and I fought with spotty internet. Now I'm considering my dinner options, and I think frozen yogurt sounds much yummier.

I'm excited about learning how to teach smart people. I hope I become smarter in the process.

peace out from a few floors up,
Saira

untitled

my laughter rang in your ears and resonated in your heart
my smile became the subject of a song you wrote in earnest

I giggled uncomfortably
no one had ever written me a song
but you did
I never forgot that

some nights when I lay my head on my cool pillow
I look to my right and I close my eyes
your fingers interlace between mine
rolling on your side, you let me trace your spine
with my thumb and first finger

when I awake my bed is empty
you were never there
yet you were--
you are everywhere I go
everywhere I look
in my mind
on a mountain top
but housed in the depths of a secret cave

I want for you to be real again
I want to shout my love for you
to anyone who will listen
grab you by the throat and kiss you in public--
in front of everyone you hide me from now
so that their gaze will judge me
though neither of  us will care

open your hands and let me place my tears between them
keep them safe, and give them validation
let this silence receive an answer
your answer
the voice that only
God can keep me from returning to

where does the heart go
when it dies a silent death?

I have no doubt that true love is redeemed
reunited, restored, replenished

I am but a pebble, but you are water
you carried me down the river
but I washed upstream
and now I'm alone
on dry land

some setbacks

So how's the sugar detox going, Saira? I know I haven't checked in since day 1, so I must say that five days all went as I wanted. Then I took a trip out of town and the tumble weeds really started to roll down the road. I've allowed myself a bite of this or that in the two days since that eventful lunch, but I have resolved to get some gym days in to motivate me further. I felt compelled to write today, of all days, because, frankly, I am in an atrocious mood. The kind of mood where I sullenly walk in the front door and leave everything to the imagination, as I won't say anything about my day. The kind of mood that provokes a few hearty punches into the unassuming steering wheel. Where everywhere I go tonight I am alone in my thoughts, as this small town leaves people to their houses and their moderately contented lives on the weekdays or to their quiet, suppressed lives of drudgery. Yet for some reason no one seems to mind. Their robot mode is in play, and their passions and pursuits are not a part of their everyday reality. All has been dialed down to a steady soft him: day in, day out.

I'm tired of pushing my will on apathetic, bitter, inwardly discounted people. When I set out to help someone with good intent and kindness I am rewarded with ugly words and no appreciation. I wonder if this is how my parents felt when I was a teenager, or even now when my moods don't welcome
their pleasant dispositions. I m ready to leave this place that felt like a fenced in, over watched existence. I would love to be anonymous now and only influence those who will readily receive my words and my effort, or at least let what I say stew in
their minds for later perusal and usage.

Tonight I am not pleased.

May tomorrow be significantly improved,
Saira

Day 1: 21 Day Sugar Detox

Holy moly. For the next 21 days I've waved an imaginary hand to sugar. In addition to not eating sugar, I've decided to cut out starchy things too, which I guess I would pretty much do with no sugar. It's halfway through the day, and I'm feeling great. I did have a blunder at breakfast when I went to Starbucks to meet a client, and I ordered an egg and chicken sausage wrap. I My Fitness Pal-ed the food item and found that it had 7 grams of sugar. So minus that slip up I'm fueled by a passion iced tea (unsweet, of course) and tons of water. I'm about to eat one scrambled egg and some fruit. Oh yeah, fruit sugars are allowed; it's just the ick that's in processed foods that is cut out, and I suppose no sugar in my tea either, but I never did that anyway.

For some reason I expected my body to fall apart or at least be rebellious if I took sugar away. Instead, I think it's thanking me. I would describe my current mood as bouncy, and I've brushed away negativity all morning. But who knows, maybe today was just supposed to be a happy day for me.

If you're curious about how to try this 3 week lifestyle/health change check out this book. I say book because they are usually more comprehensive than websites. AND you cannot replace the lovely new page smell from books with a computer screen thingy.

I am considering posting my measurements at the end of every week so I can track body changes. I don't know what to expect, so here's hoping for some magic!

Try this. Your mood will thank you (and the people you normally go cranky monster on will thank you too),
Saira

photo inspire

I decided on photo inspire as a title because I want to think of experiencing a photograph as an action verb. I want to photo inspire you today with some plants in a bucket. As part of my assignment for this I ventured to the local high school today for some time in the school garden. I learned about some of the different plants and about the difficult growing season, and for some reason (maybe you can tell me why) I was completely inspired by this image. I don't know how to explain what it means to me, but maybe I like it so much because it channels beauty in a simple unassuming rather plain circumstance or setting. When I left Mr. Campbell, the teacher I visited with, told me, "If you can make this garden look good, then you're a great photographer." I'm not sure about what magical powers I possess, but this photo makes me feel good, and that's really what I aim to do when I photograph anything: to evoke a feeling of joy, fancy, or wonder.

May you be inspired, and may you experience the enthrall of everyday beauty all around you,
Saira

forever

When I was five I stood in the kitchen with my fingertips grasped on he edges of he countertop, lamenting. I sniffled and wiped my eyes. How long was forever? What if I didn't want to live forever?  
What then? Years have passed faster than fury, and I still wonder from time to time, but I finally have peace. Someone helped me let go of my apprehension.

When I met Daniel I was impressed by his conviction, that he knew exactly what he believed, no hesitation in telling me this. As someone who was raised Muslim and grew with a rather rigid outlook on existence from a structured religion, I considered him an anomaly, an interesting variation to my black and white world. My friend Sarah always tells me about the many shades of gray in everything. Daniel is a soft wash of steely gray. And he moved me to reconsider my beliefs, the right or wrong way I tend to view everything...well some things are in the middle. Not everything is this or that. There are areas in life as mysterious as the Creator. They are this way for a reason.

Daniel opened my eyes to what I could never quite do. He offered support and advice, but I could never put his wisdom into practice. Until now. I've learned that I never truly appreciate what I am blessed with until it is gone. And now he is gone. And I still have friends and supporters, but perhaps my biggest most tangible there when I need him supporter is no longer there whenever I need him.

When we see people everyday we take in a collective experience, but in the aftermath we rely on tiny glimpses of memory. I remember whenever I looked up to catch his expression I had to crane my neck back to see, as he's nearly a foot taller than me. One of his teeth is a lingering baby tooth. At first it perplexed me but soon I sought it in his smile. Robin's egg blue eyes, round and curious, yet often serenely calm. Heavily veined arms while playing the drums. A sauntering unassuming gait. A reassuring laugh. A closet full of metal tshirts with plenty of disturbing fonts and images.

I'll miss someone I knew so well, yet I barely scratched the surface of his potential in the short time I knew him. He's a lazy river in a world of cityscapes and construction. I was a raft with poor construction and a tendency to unravel and dismantle.

Thank you for sharing your wisdom, your hope, your fears (if there were ever any), and your unapologetic good good self.

(Hello) Daniel

goodbye Saira

The infamous sealing words. Goodbye. When I was younger I pressed my hands against the window glass and cried when house guests and visitors left. I try to imagine myself now in the same position, but no tears come out. In fact, I don't feel like I have anything to cry about.

What I know is I formed a strong friendship in a precarious environment. The friendship flourished at the cost of much that I knew. I blamed the friendship on my losses and resented it, but time showed me its own beauty and purpose. And now that I hear a supposed fate all I can do is shrug. I truly believe that once someone sees how vulnerable we can be, once they hear the pattern of our heartbeat, and learn our favorite snocone flavor...that that person has been entrusted with a precious glimpse into a soul.

To leave people for any reason is to throw away something as delicate as a baby's grasp. But in truth, we don't need what we think we do. I am staring at the life ahead of me, completely alone for the first time in my life. I acknowledge my family and the friends that I still have as supporters; no one can walk my walk though: it's all on me.

I want to write my novel, the one that's been forming in my mind for years. I want to pay tribute to my grandfather, to his memory through my words. I want my book to be successful, and I want my first book to start a career of writing more stories, stories I want to share with young readers, especially girls who have experienced inner turmoil, self-esteem woes, and heartbreak.

It's not the end. Goodbye is not strong enough of a word to be the end all experience.

Hello Saira.

a test within a test (within)

This morning I opened my eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. The comforter had shifted in my sleep, cold air, a newer sensation to me, swept across my exposed skin; I hid back under the covers for a few minutes longer. Then, eventually, I dragged myself across the room and through the door to eat something before my test. I felt like today was definitely an off kilter day for me, but I couldn't place the strange dread that was all too real. Outside the world seemed to agree with me. The sky cried and the wind moaned in unison with the fat droplets that hit my windshield, as the wipers danced the only dance they know.

Enter The Testing Environment. Really. You will see that this place needs to be an active character. But I wont skip too far ahead. So pay attention to the now. I climbed up three flights of stairs in the library where the test was located--I needed to wake up a little more. I am all too familiar with the test site, so I was disappointed to see that a magic cubical room did not present itself on the third floor. We were, instead, testing in a room where the computers are far too close together. And to my astonishment the proctor was checking people in in the very room where people were testing. I was photographed and "checked-in," then taken to the computer where I would test for the next two hours. I asked for noise cancellation headphones because I had been given some at the last test site for the first portion of the test. One of the proctors went to ask the other proctor, and she walked back and handed me regular headphones, computer with a microphone attachment: what the hell--another bad sign.

I got in my test mode, smoothed the ends of my scarf attached pink snowflake jacket on my knees and folded my legs, criss-cross-applesauce, on the wheely chair. I clicked through the questions, and I found myself skipping quite a few. Crap, I thought, crap. Once I was 2/3 through (mind you I skipped many), the computer showed the spinning circle. And it kept spinning. A few minutes later I found the person next to me make eye contact with me, and we realized both our circles were spinning. The person to the far right of me had the same predicament. We raised our hands. One proctor walked up to us, told us to wait, and the other proctor called the appropriate peoples. We waited. Finally, after about thirty minutes all the systems were rebooted. No one knew whether the test would resume where we had each left off, or whether we had lost all the work we had done so far. Once my screen looked like the earlier one I had started with I felt a sense of relief. Now I could get this over with. I settled into a comfortable place, both mentally and physically, but no more then fifteen minutes passed until my computer froze again.

Heat spread to my cheeks, and I raised my hand again. At this point I would have expected the proctors to throw up their hands and shake their heads dismissively; they would say something like, "Sorry guys. We have a lot of kinks to work out. You will be assigned a new test date. Sign your name here." Something close. Instead, the proctors played a game of pass the phone, while they interpreted the instructions of whatever misinformed person was on the other line. The funny thing is that a handful of people were still taking the test. Their computers had not let them down. I felt a mix of jealously and regret for the people who had the dis/advantage of still testing. I took two bathroom breaks. So did others. The people outside were confused. Many were unable to sign in to test. Many left. I almost did too. I felt the anger rise in my voice when I asked the proctor what I should do. Then I walked away; what else could I do? I sat back down and waited. I got up and walked to the window and looked at my bird's eye view. I tried to reconnect with nature and feel a sense of calm. Good for a few seconds. As soon as I looked away I felt tightness in my chest again.

I got to the test before 10:30. Around 2:00 we were told that we would be contacted by the official test people about retesting. We had multiple questions that flew from our mouths like fireflies that had been trapped in a jar all summer. I left with the realization that I had no idea when my test would be. I have plans for the next two weekends. What do they expect me to do? What if I don't get to test in time to interview for teaching jobs? What will I do if I don't have a full-time high school teaching job in the fall? The questions tumbled against each other with a domino organized fall effect.

Standing in the rain, I looked around me. The campus was green and quiet. Two Indian boys in hoodies walked on the sidewalk in front of me. They were laughing and smiling. I felt my stress from the stressful environment pass through my exhales.

The next thing on my mind was lunch. Glorious lunch. I anticipated the tastes with a sudden fervor.

Cons: incomplete test, no idea when the makeup will be
Pros: it WILL happen "soon," I have more time to study, I had something to write about

happy rainy, dreary, overcast Saturday
Saira

water pours

I'm staring at the screen, ready for an update after a dry spell on the blog, and I have absolutely nothing to write. Of course, I can write about how I feel, how my day went, but I will, in retrospect, not want to mind trivial affairs. I will want to remember that I am much bigger than a setback all in a day's living. So I'm going to do something I really don't want to now, but I know that I need to do. Before I go and do some stress relief yoga, I'm going to make yet another list. This list is going to be an assortment of that for which I am proud or thankful. If all I do is focus on the yuck when I feel like yuck I wont get anymore right then. And right now is all we really have. Who knows what will happen tomorrow, and yesterday has contributed to who we are but it's completely out of reach. Let's go.

1. I have two degrees, which I will hopefully put to use soon.
2. I have an extremely supportive and caring family.
3. My friendships are deep and not surface level.
4. Even when I don't feel beautiful, I know that I really am in many ways.
5. I am working harder than I ever have in my life to support myself financially.
6. I passed the Praxis I, and I hope to pass Praxis II tomorrow.
7. My kitten, Pasha, is a kitten no longer, and she has grown so gracefully. She's healthy and content.
8. So far most of my goodbyes in life have been temporary, even if for many years.
9. I never want for any basic need.
10. I need prayer and reflection more than I have in life so far; it's not bad to pray. It's really really good.
11. I learn and retain information well.
12. When I sub I really try to be the best teacher/person I can be in the classroom. I keep my standards high but I always meet the students where they are when they need help. I am getting good practice for the main work phase of my life in the coming chapters.
13. I always forgive.

Right now that exercise did nothing for me. I'm right where I was when I started, but I know that when I read over this after I post it, and several days from now, I will have insight and enhanced meaning.

What falls must fall to reach the ground. Once it stops it can fall no more. It has found a home in resolve and surrender.

Saira

Have you met Domesti Kate?

A side effect of living in the South is, of course, that all us Southern girls know how to cook. With my luck, not only am I Southern, but I'm Pakistani-American Southern...American, which is a fantastical idea to wrap your thoughts around: Pakistani girls should know how to cook too. I know there are others like me, and I can only wonder if they defy stereotypes as well. You see, it's not just cooking. It's cleaning, gardening, laundry-ing, ironing, darning, mending, baking, child-rearing, husband-pleasing: all of it. And, because I'm a sweet docile woman, who "knows her place," I'm supposed to be okay with all of this.

But there's an exception. Enter The Working Woman. The South and Pakistani standards make allowances for The Working Woman, but there's more to it. She not only has one task, but two. And if she fails in one area, then she certainly shouldn't be a mother or The Working Woman.

I have a lot of respect for domestic woman. Maybe my problem is that this is not who I am, nor who I will ever be. I have great traits about myself, but I can realize and own up to being deficient in some areas that others thrive in. I want to believe that when I'm in the situation where I am a wife, and potentially, very soon, a mother, that the cards will fall neatly in a stack before me. I really do. I just think it's more responsible of me, now, to admit my faults, and come to accept them, before anyone or anything can accept me for who I am not.

This being said, I love challenges. Challenge me to cook you a delicious turkey dinner, and it's on. Dare me to weed a garden, and watch me. I like to prove others and myself wrong.

So.

I might yet become a Domesti Kate one day.

God help me.

:-)
Saira

back to the drawing board (for words)

I am going to make a list. If there's one thing I've picked up from reading this book recently (or the start of it), it's that: lists are perfectly acceptable, even helpful at times. This is one of those times. I will call this list...

Stuff Potentially, Maybe, Almost, But Ultimately I'm Going to Try to Write About 

1. a series of failures, the stuff of truth and pain and sorrow and eventual small spurts of joy

2. a collection of vignettes about random everyday happenings and occurrences

3. a book of photography and interviews with women in the community

4. a fictional story based on the identity imbalance of a Muslim American girl raised in the South

5. unconnected stream of conscious ramblings

6. I. Don't. Care. End. This. List. Already.

Epic FAIL, Saira. I'm also epically unmotivated and I lack serious creativity today, as opposed to unserious creativity that is rampant in my mind right now.

So let's end this with some Eisley. I'm still giddy I get to see them in June. Life, you look good, dude.

Toodles (but I need more doodles),

Saira 

woman. hood.

Yesterday's commentary on this blog was a huge resounding yuck. Some things are probably better left closed up in a wet cardboard box in an attic somewhere. Nonetheless, stuff has to find a way seeping out, and the best way I've decided is in writing. It's fortunate and unfortunate that it is on a public forum.

Back to the nowness of now. I relish in anything that celebrates women. I found out about an online conference for women broadcast online and available for viewing/listening convenience after the broadcast as long as I am registered. I signed up right away. Has it become common place to give high fives and hugs to people because they are women too? It never gets old, I think. In fact, there need to be men celebrations as well, but it seems men are collectively unsure about expressing their emotions, and this type of ceremony might be disastrous, or at least socially awkward for menfolk.

Remember that post I made about BIG, CRAZY, WILD ideas? I have one. I really do.

I want to in some small way contribute to the celebrating women phenomenon. I want to start a online community that discusses women's issues; I want to write a book for specifically for women; I want to photograph strong women and tell their stories; I want to shake the hand of every woman I meet and thank her for being who she is. I. Don't. Know. It is a bit of struggle sometimes just to settle on an idea and stick with it. So let that be my goal today.

I have to
1) study Praxis math
2) take a Praxis full length test, or at least one of each of the three in separate sittings
3) go for a run
4) deliver prints
5) make an online print order for clients
6) do laundry
7) buy Pasha some cat litter (poor cat)
8) perform prescribed prayers
9) book a flight to see brobro
10) work on the novel

Uh oh. This is more than an "idea." This is a sum of lots of little ideas that subscribe to my day. Off to the shower where all the deep thoughts start. Then I shall emerge fresh and empowered and supercharged for the day...all before 2:00 pm. woot!

hop to it,
Saira

dear jerks, I love your drive-thru syndrome

If I have learned anything since last year it's that there is a time to cry and there's a time to refuse to show any emotion for something that pales to deserve credit. Since I have gotten divorced I've witnessed what I am coining as drive-thru syndrome. People meet each other with the notion that they have ordered an individual of the opposite sex, made to order, and if this person fails to meet the standards they set in their mind, it's back to the restaurant, with the notions of trying a new place all together in the future. Although, maybe we should look at it this way: they get the woman burger and dissemble her based on her unique traits, and if the lettuce is iceburg instead of romaine, then by God it's bad news, not what was expected. People are lately it seems less and less accepting and more and more likely to drop and run as fast as they can in a more appeasing direction.

So when I meet rejection I stare it down, and I have to roll my eyes a little. Especially when someone tries to console me and reassure me that I am "an amazing girl." I know that already. It's as if people think their words are the frosting of confirmation I need to put one foot in front of the other. I have survived the grand slam of breakups, and I have a brain that works and a body that obeys my commands. I'm not dying, and I'm not dying for acceptance either. If I stare at my face in the mirror five years from now, and I'm not looking behind me for someone in the room with me, then I'm going to be just fine with myself.

I've run across this type of guy too often in my life and in the stories my friends tell me. They are concerned about whether or not they hurt your feelings, yet they proceed to lay on the unnecessary garbage about the "it's not you, it's me, but it's really you" sentiments.

I understand that everything I write may be incriminating, but if someone really wants to judge me for my honesty, then so be it. I'm here to be real, starkly real, and that's it.

haters stay clear. self, stay clever.

How much time do you spend on those who don't give a damn one way or another? Whether you work with them, or just have to talk to them from time to time, how does it make you feel when you are someone who truly cares about others and you are faced with someone who hates that sort of thing? Haters don't tip me in the restaurant. Haters spread animosity and ill feelings in an otherwise cheerful room. Haters gossip, judge others, and are epically rude. How to deal? In my Saira fashion I keep my wit sharp, and I slice off my words that are tactful and appropriate. I speak with more edge in my voice. I refuse to lower myself to their morals and their lack of decency. I have spent years of my life surrounded by negativity. I had to come up for air and grasp at any straw that held a supportive, uplifting vibe from it. People who are unhappy with others are really  unhappy with themselves, so I want to be compassionate and caring toward them instinctively, but I have done this too long. All it does it get me hurt. Haters don't respond to kindness unless it kills them. All I have is one Saira, one self, and she has to survive. So I am looking out for me; of course I am. And you should do the same. We can find ways to be nice and continue the hard fight, but we need to dispel toxic people and compel ourselves to put our voices out there so they are louder and more prominent. Just like I don't stand for terrorists who paint themselves as Muslims, I don't stand for fellow people who try to be good people but treat others poorly.

I will feel a pang of pain when I am left with a zero tip. I will cry quietly to myself when someone puts me in my place. But I will persevere. And one day soon when I have the strength I will counter the behavior with my words of steel.

 inner calm amidst adversity,
Saira

don't fail me now

Life is a blink, a flutter of the eyelashes across the cheek, the brush of lips against a glass of water. In these moments, these millions and billions of moments where the heart continuously beats, what did you do with your time? Like many, including me, you might have wasted away. The clock ticked and tocked and the time faded into the past but you stayed in your chair, in your bed, or in the cobwebs forming in the corner of your mind. I remember when I was twenty. I walked across campus watching the squirrels scamper up tall trees. I wore Pakistani dress on top and gym pants on the bottom with a side ponytail and fake designer sunglasses. I photographed blades of grass, dead baby birds, and cigarette butts on campus--nothing ceased to perplex or fascinate me. I was enthralled with every exhale of the Earth. People were mysterious even when they spoke blatantly. School was my passion and my existence. I lived for myself, but despite myself I was so innately connected to this life force around me that lives and breathes in every soul.

I haven't felt that delicately aware of the cosmos in years. I turned a page and saw fires and hurricanes and starving children in my mind's eye. These disasters and nightmares were me, they were my life, and the choices I was making. I lost my desire to be authentically true to me and to the One God I worship. I withered and fragmented, surrendering to the wants of people who would sooner board a train and leave in the face of the impending storm.

All I can do now is try to remember. What did I do once? Where did my feet fall? Is left worse than right? Questions do have answers, even for me. As much as I wonder and wonder about what is staring straight at me, and I know when it is time to push the plate, which is quite full, and give it to Someone, Something, Unspeakably, Unfathomably BIGGER than what I can ever, ever imagine.

It's time, God. Take the mess I've made and release a cage of doves. Beckon a double rainbow to illuminate the southern skies. Take my cliches and my narrow understanding of Mercy and Deep Love and let me fall in love with the world again, not the small part of this life, but the part that matters, the part that serves and seeks to feel your embrace.

I'm finished with fighting,
Saira

the lesson

I started asking friends what I should write about, and I got a good suggestion last night. I was told to write about the most important lesson I've learned in life so far. When he told me this my brain raced with the possibilities of what I could consider as potential. I've had a lot of tough lessons come in my life that came at inconvenient times, or at least when I didn't feel ready (but isn't that when those guys show up?). Amidst everything I've actually taken in and benefited from in at least some small way, the lesson of kindness has stayed with me.

Back in third grade my class was playing a trivia type of game, and one of the girls on my team didn't know the answer to her question. At recess I shared a few words with a friend about how disappointing her performance was. Unbeknownst to me my teacher was right around the corner, and she heard me. In a flash she was in my face, widening her eyes, scary effect I might add, and spit flew from the corners of her mouth. I had to walk to the big tree and back and think about what I had said. I was in trouble. I don't know why my mind goes back to that day, but the event has never left me. I still remember that girl's name, and some of her expressions that day. I don't remember what my teacher said, but her intentions were not wasted. I have not always been kind or understanding in the face of disagreements, misunderstandings, or other like situations, but in almost everything I do, especially with people I don't know, I try to be warm, welcoming, friendly, courteous, and accepting. Unfortunately the people closest to me get the brunt of it, as they see the raw real Saira when she feels like unleashing herself, and I'm sorry for that. But for the tables I serve, or for the students that come into my classes, I have a smile, a laugh, and a generous spirit to share. 

So it's funny, but reflecting on this lesson has helped me realize this art is no art yet in my book, and it has yet to be fully developed and honed to better usage.

Have you been kind today? Kind to yourself and kind to all life, inanimate and animate?
Saira

for you, who gave my world light

How do you trace a memory, a collection of moments in time beside half of your heart in human form? I like to, in traditional fashion, start at the beginning.

This is the first time I saw you.

You were playing a show in your band. Lead guitarist. Unassuming, with no knowledge that that night, this picture would change my life. I would look at it, marveling at it, wondering about the person in it. This was actually when I first realized my passion for photography, when I knew the depths in a photograph.

I would learn your name, Shane, and I made it my mission to know you, to be a part of your world. I would succeed. Not only did we become close friends, best friends, but we fell for each other, we spent days together, learning about each other. You said I was so random, the most random person you'd ever met, and you always made me laugh, smile, and forget my problems. I'm sorry I ignored you that summer, a few months after we formed our bond. I was immature, and I needed time to heal. Years later I'm healing again, but you're not here with me to make the hurting less painful.

I love your family--I still do after all. I indulged in the delicious times we spent up there surrounded by laughter and love. I was a skinny bitty thing when we met, but that changed. Food helped, as evidenced here.

You came in such a delicate whisper into my life, and when you left it's as if the oceans flooded the beaches and the land, all of it, and don't forget I can't swim. I'm drowning every day, some days I come up for air, and I have these pictures, the glimpses into the past that remind me about who I am, who I was, who I will always be. 

It happens that whenever you spend enough time with someone and you form a consistent commitment that you want to spend forever together. 

Here's one of my favorite things I remember about you, your love for music. We got to create this in our engagement session.

I made a lot of mistakes, and I couldn't hold on to someone so bright that the stars paled in fear of your brilliance. I have to face this now, and I think even as I write this I struggled to coherently communicate my thoughts. Isn't that the bitter reality of life, that we have this insight when everything is gone and we are standing on a shaky cliff overlooking the ocean I mentioned earlier? This is as high as I could climb, and my only choice is still to fall to what must become of me.

Guitar Hero? You were mine.

You probably wont remember but there were days we would sing together? We would think of a song to sing and we'd join voices. Mine wasn't much to remember, but I think that's what it must feel like to make music with someone you love.

We adored each other. See that shirt I'm wearing? It's the first shirt I saw you in. I'm smiling so big because I'm probably thinking about that. 

Then it finally happened. We got married.

Even though I was an hour late, this was the happiest day of my life. I was yours in name, in fact, in every reality. Life was just beginning all over again.

We went to Hawaii. 

No matter what how can I thank you for that experience? I may never see a place more beautiful in my life. 

But then we came to odds. We fought and fought. And I cried. You cried. We were standing on two different steps, and no matter how much love there was it couldn't help the crumbling of where we stood. 

Why do I write this? Why do I put it out there? For months I've tried to dull down the pain with every distraction I can imagine. At first I tried to keep myself busy, going, going, going from place to place, never staying quiet, nor still for a moment to reflect. And then I wanted to experience every regret, every sorrow, and I cried for nights, every night, I cried myself to sleep. I always wondered what you were going through, too. I envied you for moving on so fast while I scrambled in vain to pick up the pieces of the past five years. 

It is my sincere hope that this post will help someone who feels like his or her world is over right now. I want to offer you solace that your world is not over, that the world never leaves you nor deserts you; God is not like that. Oh my God it is going to hurt like hell sometimes. At first it will feel like you are in a type of hell. You can love someone so so so much, and sometimes life gets in the way and it tears apart two people who were once perfectly in sync. 

Nothing can take away what I remember though. And if you are reading this, whoever you are, I want you to remember that. Days from now, years from now you will smile and laugh and cry and thank the Universe that he or she was in your life. And if God is Good as God is then they will return. In what form only God knows, but be faithful and patience and true to who you are, what you want to be. And wait.

I love you, and stay strong,

Saira

PS: Listen to this Allison Krauss song and reflect on all of this.

sweat. sweat. sweet sweat.

Yesterday I spooned a piece of spoon cake in my mouth. I later indulged in a late night dinner of delicious Mexican food, complete with chips and salsa aplenty. I woke up feeling like yesterday was some scene out of a dream, determined to make healthier, more productive choices. Cereal for breakfast, check. Giant water bottle of water before workout, check. And then the monster of them all, a 45 minute Turbofire workout. Maybe I exaggerate a little. This is definitely a sweat pouring workout, but I find it manageable now, especially after doing similar workouts in the program since December. It's a 90 day workout regimen, complete with nutrition advice, but I find myself working out hard for two or three days in a row, then falling off the workout wagon, only to desperately to try to stay on a week or two later. Have I lost weight? You bet. Do I feel better? Heck yes. Am I satisfied with where I'm at? No way! Until I can commit to six days a week of activity I will not rest in my head. I'm not trying to achieve any ideal physique or form anymore. I just want to be able to exercise for an hour in a tolerable fashion. I want to always feel sweet pangs of pain that make me push harder, ironically enough, but I want to always try to achieve more and better myself from the day before. Working out in a catharsis for me. My sweat is like a forgotten sister of my tears. I've cried enough tears for two or three people in this short time. Maybe that's it. Pouring out the sweat puddles gets some of my angst out, and I no longer have to sob about it. Whatever the reason for this attitude, so be it. I'm having a great time, and I check out my form in the mirror every 10 minutes or so. I look good. I feel good. Good.

Getch yo workout on today. You will feel hot and incredible when you stop and cool down. Your clothes will seem to fit better, and you wont be able to stop smiling.

Bring it on Wednesday,
Saira

PS: I collapsed on the floor after I stretched, and I looked something like this.

oh PLEASE pick me.

If today had a theme it would be the raw, ugly, but completely honest validation. It has once again showed its unwanted face in my life. I have made a shrine for that stupid word and worshiped it like no other concept to date. I could go back to younger years and count incident after incident where I sought approval from someone, something, anything. And today was no different. Crying, I called friends for comfort, support, and advice. Sometimes I just felt like I wanted someone to say, "You're right to feel that way." I'm still reading A Complaint Free World in which the author tells us over and over to avoid the deadly traps of complaining, and what to do when people around us complain, how to get around it. When we complain, at times, we are seeking importance and significance. It's like the quenching answer for a bruised ego. And boy do I ever have a bruised ego. It's as if in the past three months someone has taken what I was and stepped on it, left it to soak in the soggy mud, and then laid it on scorching rocks and thrown me off a cliff to fall indefinitely and seemingly forever into nothingness. Vulnerable is such an understatement.

Then why do you care if anyone reads this? Why do you post it on facebook? Honestly, truly, I don't care if another person thinks anything more or less of me from reading this. I only hope that something I say is of some help to someone, something, anything. If one sentence I wrote shook hands with the inner you and made you smile or realize something you've been searching for, then great! That's why I'm here. I figured out a long time ago that I was created to help; it's the best good I can amount to.

It feels good to say this, but to someone I never know, that I will never meet, thank you Shakira. Your music, attitude, and passion has drawn up a fire inside of me that has doubted myself for far too long.

A second, but most hearty, thanks to my friends and family for consistently giving me arms to fall back in. The fall is scary, but it's a reality.

Fall hard and land soft, beautiful,
Saira

PS: It's never too late to learn to dance. I think I'm going to teach myself a style I have desperately needed to hone and fine tune.

the next BIG thing

What do you secretly, or maybe not so secretly, in your wildest dreams want to do? Not too long ago I had a talk with my brother. He told me that the facebook age is one of narcissists. And in school we are often told we can "be anything we want to be." All we have to do is dream it, then work to achieve it. We had a back and forth over this mentality, with me on the side for the dreamers. Who's right?

Let's consider what it's like to think you can do what you want. You're 10 years old. You relish in the idea of owning an ice cream business. You go through school, and you hear the other zany ideas your friends have. But when you're at home, your parents tell you about how they have their own dreams that you will become a doctor, and you can help treat them when they older. You start to think that maybe being a doctor wouldn't be so bad. You would get paid well, and you could afford to take care of your family. Then you get to college. You focus. You make straight As through your hard work, and that lingering idea of owning an ice cream business seems like a childhood notion. Med school application it is.

Does this sound familiar? I have nothing against conventional occupations. Most of them are direly, importantly necessary for our society to be what it is and has been. But what about the dreamers who want to be doers? Do they stand a chance?

I completely understand that it's unrealistic that everyone who wants to run wild with a great entrepreneurial idea is not going to be successful. Most people will fail. I like to think that it's a worth effort to try against all odds to achieve what seems so deliciously good.

I sometimes wake up in the morning with a calm yet energized feeling; I think, "I am going help someone today." That is all it takes to motivate me on the spot. Then I go through my day, get hung up over issues that are much smaller than they seem, and suddenly my perspective is shot, and I retreat to my bed downcast and thankful I get to close my eyes and end my miserable day. You see, what I lack is constant application of what I'm trying to achieve. I need a game plan.

So here is what I am going to do, and I encourage you to do the same. I'm going to go home and make a list of five BIG, CRAZY, INSPIRING ideas I want to set in motion. I am going to spend a few lines elaborating on each one. Then I'm going to put it away and revisit it tomorrow. So grab a pen and some paper, or maybe start a new Word file. Do this simple step, and I'll be back tomorrow with more.

I dare you to dream,
Saira

PS: Someone needs to invent a way to keep drinks cold. Watered down drinks are not that yummy. Ice should be a thing of the past.

consider me slashed

It started yesterday. I drove down a slight hill to find a decent, off road, parking spot at the jogging trail park. As it was bloody gorgeous outside at least 1/3 of the town was there. Well. Not really, but every parking spot was taken, and at least seven cars were lined up in the grass. I thought it would be easy to get down there, but as I shimmied my car down the hill, I heard a resounding thud at the final destination. I shrugged it off and went for my run. When I got back on the road I heard a jah-jah-jah sound, and dumbly I ignored it. It returned this morning on my first trek into town, and it only got louder each time I drove. When I turned up the base of a big hill on the way to my parents' house earlier tonight that car was complaining big time with each inch it traveled. I got home, somehow, miraculously, considering the severity of the sounds, and I shone my phone light on the back right side, by the tire. And would you believe, that puppy was slashed and separating, completely flat. This ijit drove around several times today on a low air/flat tire. My first instinct: "someone slashed me!" And I think I'll stick with that story. It creates a motive and a bit of suspense. Who did it? And why? And then a story forms. But if some stupid nail got stuck in the side or if that fateful hill made its mark, well then that's much different. That seems far more predictable and uneventful.

And in other news the 'ol hormones have gifted me with a pimple. It's on my chin, and that dude is painful. I caught up with another photographer for coffee a bit earlier, and I somehow swung my arm against my chin, and I must have winced at least a little. I don't know if it's a female thing, to get pimples well into my 20s, or if it's a "Saira, you are so clearly stressed and you know it" thing.

(I think I will start adding a PS section with a random thought of the moment to spice up the posts.)

Make it BIG,
Saira

PS: I avoid the news at all costs. If it's important I'll hear about it another way.

preggo? I just get legos.

Another friend is pregnant. My small world goes through waves of marriages and pregnancies. My knee jerk reaction is a pang of pain, and I follow it up with a quick "Congratulations." What else do you say? Do I escape into my mind and pour out the swamp like depths of jealously? Or do I go to my blog and write out the thoughts that are too negative to say to anyone experiencing such a joyous moment in life? It wasn't always this way.

Almost two years ago I thought I would be on that same path toward motherhood in the next two years. And now I look back, look forward and see just me standing on this path. It's weathered and shifting, and all I can do is hang on with my super grip feet. My nails are talons, and I dig into the earth, refusing to budge. But the grounds keep moving, and like I'm on a conveyer belt, I move even when I'm standing still.

It's not so bad being alone. I am a lot of time to be myself, even at the expense of others wanting me to change. I get to practice genuineness and good manners when I feel like a pile of wadded up paper balls from neglected rough drafts and attempts at the right things to say.

Time to turn on emo tracks,
Saira

to everyone belongs a faith

2:256. Let there be no compulsion in religion: Truth stands out clear from Error: whoever rejects evil and believes in [God] hath grasped the most trustworthy hand-hold, that never breaks. And [God] heareth and knoweth all things.

I wanted to borrow from the Qur'an today, for a bit of a look from my perspective. When I was growing up in the South I learned on a daily basis about Christian beliefs. I lived and still live in a predominately Christian town. I have seen a surge of fervor and evangelism. And I have often felt like I was backed into a corner with only a squeak of a voice in my defense. Defense? Yes, defense. If I wasn't told (in a concerned tone) that I was going to hell, then I was encouraged to participate in Christian activities, most likely with the hope that I would come to accept that faith.

I have nothing personally against Christianity, other than it is not my faith. It is not how I was raised, and it's not the way the bits in my brain want to think. And my heart has another to which it surrenders.

We both believe in God, but as far as how we perceive God, that is the tricky part. Muslims do not emphasize nor prescribe to the Trinity or to the God like traits of Jesus Christ.

So, yes, I do feel out of place on Easter Sunday. It's a day with a lot of conventional parts, but the faith based message is a stretch for me.

I realize this is how Christians, and other faiths (sorry for neglecting to mention diversity of spiritual systems in this post) must feel about my beliefs. Especially in a predominately Muslim place.

Sometimes I fantasize about being somewhere where I don't have to explain the difference between haram and halal, where my friends and peers will not playfully jab me for not eating pork ("but it's soo good," they say), where I am surrounded by masses for support.

If I ever begin to start placing my beliefs above another's I will have to take a break from waving my self-righteous finger around for attention.

Because I truly don't care to spread Islam by my influence anymore. I shared what I know and what I feel with someone once, and that did not go so well in the end. Because we believe what we will ourselves to believe. Nothing I say or do can make someone change or be something he or she is not, to the core.

Muslims have this understanding that God gives light and meaning to who God wants to. So I no longer make myself out to be more than a person living each day according to the message I am interpreting.

But how I fail! How I refuse to do what is so essentially right. How I struggle with the simplicity of ritual practice. Many days I am disgusted with myself, but at night I have to surrender to sleep and try again the next day.

Do I have a lot of angst? Yes, I really do. Twenty-eight years of societal influence has given me a shaky exterior protecting a very fragile interior. I long to be at peace with the conflict I've created for myself most days.

I turn to meditation right now because it feels like a transition to formal prescribed prayers. When I become more of who I am you will tell a difference. You will hear it in the fluidity of my words.

Thanks for taking this departure from what I might normally write. And thanks for your faith in my writing.

believe what you believe with all you are, and don't be let down when the world doesn't agree,
Saira

new nails and a new attitude

After work today I had the absolute joy of getting to see my college best friend for a few hours. Before I could meet her I had to get her a small gift because it's been so long. When I finished with my shopping I still had 20 minutes until I was due at the restaurant for late lunch. I went into the adjacent salon and requested shellac. I have been a good girl, painting my own nails with my own nail polish and base and top coat the past two times. Today was a treat. After a few mess ups I arrived for lunch almost 25 minutes late--way to go, Saira. Luckily, my friends are understanding; she waited in her car and chatted with another friend while I scrambled in a mad dash to meet her. Seeing her reassuring smile and just her was worth the sprint.

How would you describe the way you feel when you talk to a good friend? I know my face lights up, and I feel comfortable wrinkling my nose and laughing loudly at everyone's expense. I have actually had some embarrassed people from my past tell me in a certain hush tone to please be quieter. That's a real rip roaring compliment if I've ever heard one. But steering back to a sunnier topic, we chose the restaurant I work at for lunch, and it's so different being on the eating side again. They got slammed during late lunch hours, so it was interesting to sit back and watch everything calming down around me. We ate way too much, and I felt like I wanted to stumble dumbly out the door, which I nearly did! We went by a few more stops in our time together, and I can't describe the happiness I felt. When I am around people that truly "get me" I am so much myself it's silly. I'll never forget today. And I'm thankful to have bright days amidst the dark and dreary ones.

Leave room for lights to flicker and for flames to grow brilliantly. The dark is not for always. All it needs is a flash of light to remember what is possible.

Give your friends hugs today,
Saira

cry, baby

No one told me it would be this hard. Life unravels every evening and I find myself sitting in a puddle of my own tears. I gasp and choke down my sobs, and then more come to the surface, ready to take over my breaths. After a few minutes of this, I feared the coming headache from hell, so I said to myself, "now that's enough, Saira dear." I wiped up the moisture, blew my nose, and settled onto a pillow. I set an alarm for ten minutes from then. I closed my eyes, and I breathed in and out. Thoughts raced in my head like cars on a drag strip. Haunting memories flashed in my mind. On. Off. On. Off. When I would lose my calm, I would lightly nudge myself back to my breath. I started thinking "love" on my inhales and "healing" on the exhales. When I thought about what healing means to me I made sure to include an enveloping warmth, like a heaven-sent embrace. Before I realized it ten minutes were over. The alarm gently pulled me back into the dark room, where covers were strewn around my half lotus crossed legs. I no longer felt the need to cry. I felt comfortably numb; if I never understood that expression before, suddenly it had meaning.

Remember, some days you will want to cry. You might need to cry. That's okay. It might take several months of this routine. Sure enough you'll have breaks in the blur, but then hard nights return. The world seems like a place of Take Away, and monsters chase you in your dreams. People always walk past you: you always seem one step behind the truth you seek. Don't close your heart down for repairs. It's resilient, and it is willing to bleed while you face life, reluctantly but steadily.

Cry, baby. You deserve it.

Love,
Saira

hips don't sing...well, they shouldn't

Oh how I love subbing. Really. It's great being a part time teacher and getting to leave at the end of the day, not worried about the lingering social and educational issues that remain. But. Sometimes I long for my spot in a classroom as someone who belongs for more than a few days. As I walked down the hallway at the high school I subbed at today, I read the motivational posters and looked at the framed class pictures lining the walls. I noticed who had contributed to the school and how they were honored. I dragged my fingers across name plates greeting visitors and students alike outside of classrooms. Yes, today I felt more like an outsider than I normally have. Today was also a day of controlled chaos, as my assignment changed the moment I stepped inside the school doors, and it was not anymore clear to me by the end of the day. This is the reality behind subbing though: most things do, indeed, go. I walked briskly to my car at the end of the day with an hour to spare before my next job started.

I walked into my workplace in a positive refreshed mood (showers and long drives home do wonders). I got seated with three tables tonight, and I couldn't have asked for kinder people at my tables. The people I work with were helpful and friendly as they always are. I walked out the door 30 minutes before close. In every other situation I should be perfectly content with my evening, but not tonight.

Just after getting into my car I broke down and sobbed. I am still trying to figure out exactly what happened in my mind. I try to retrace my thought process, but all I can understand is how exhausted I was. I realize, every day, that my life has lost its ease and lightness, that I will have to work hard each day hereafter to get by. That hard work has finally found a place in my life, and it's here to stay.

In my lately fashion I should find the positive in my sorrow, so here goes. People comforted, and if not comforted they at least listened to me, on the drive home. And someone called me back who I did not expect to; that made me sit up and think. Do people hear our calls of desperation and pain and respond? Does God send relief in the moments of quiet struggle? What is it that I am really seeking? Money pays bills, but does it fill a weary heart with hope and love? What must I live for?

I have a goal for myself. Before I close my eyes tonight and say farewell to another day I will laugh out loud at myself. I am a fool, no more, no less. I am a fool in love with a fleeting memory.

Goodnight,
Saira

PS: My hips ache from the walking today. If "dogs" or feet can bark, my hips can sing. Unfortunately they are not in tune.

I can only give you my words of gratitude

Today I went to church with a woman I have loved as part of my family. The feeling hasn't changed. I agreed to go with her when she asked me weeks ago, and I looked forward to the day. I think that as members of different faiths it's natural to be apprehensive and, frankly, scared to experience other faiths as a welcomed guest. I have to say that when I was asked I felt honored and that saying yes would be the fitting response.

This morning I wondered what to wear to church. What I wear to the masjid is modest and discreet, but I personally like to adorn myself beautifully (i.e. colorfully) in preparation with meeting my Creator in prayer. Today I chose a dress, thick sweater tights, and boots. I felt confident in this attire, and I walked out the door ready for the trek, as I had to drive about an hour to meet her. When I got in the vicinity I brilliantly went to the wrong church, and as the service out there is sketchy I could not reach who I was going with for a while until I picked up a bit of service again and was able to receive her phone call. I got to the service a little late, but happy to be at the right place finally. I walked in and was warmly greeted by my guide and the pastor of the church. I had been there before in respect of her family at a time of loss, so I was familiar with some of their practices. They opened the service through singing hymns, and they went into a Sunday school meeting. I listened and picked up on what I could as a new person. Then more singing and a sermon, followed by prayer requests and offering collection. I was tempted to quip in with my personal prayer requests, but I decided I would save it for a place I feel more comfortable, in my own private supplications. After the service was over my hand was shook a few times by the members, and people thanked me for coming; they hoped to see me again.

Now this is where I get to my apology part. I had a great time, I learned more about this particular group of people. I watched a beautiful intent illustrated in their congregation. I have an appreciation for them and a respect for their beliefs. But I have a duty to my unique beliefs and fulfilling the betterment of myself through Islam, my chosen and given faith. So I wanted the strangest thing. I wanted to give those kind warm people what they wanted. I wanted to tell them, "I believe what you believe. I am one of you," because sometimes that is how much I want to make people happy. But in the end I have to be true to what will bring me personal satisfaction and joy.

I can only give them my words of gratitude and learn from this experience.

God makes beautiful kindred spirits in people of all faiths. As long as people have a strong desire to serve God I find a brother and a sister among that group. I long to return to One Religion, One Guided People.

I wanted to make this post more personal to me today. Thanks for sharing the page with me.

May you be rewarded for your struggles and your triumphs,
Saira

Rain Brain

Sometimes when the weather gets a certain amount of dreary factor and overcastness, I start to feel my mood take a similar hue. When I woke up my throat was bordering on the sore side, and I took that knowledge with me to work, where I tried to disguise my feelings in a glass of tart sparkling pink lemonade. When I left work I found myself complaining about my day to a friend, so I immediately had to put a stop to it; I said goodbye, and switched my bracelet to my other wrist.

Let me explain the bracelet switch. I recently read from a book called A Complaint Free World. I actually got to talk to the author of the book the night I purchased the book because I visited the website, which you can find here, and called the phone number listed. I wanted to leave a message expressing my gratitude. Imagine my surprise when the very man responsible for the movement answered the phone: so surreal! Basically, the complaint free movement is a lifestyle and an attitude shift. You wear a bracelet (you can purchase some on the website for you and friends) or a rubber band on your wrist and each time you complain you switch the article from wrist to wrist. The objective is to go a full 21 day span without having to switch, no complaints. The first day I started I made it the whole day, but the next four days in a row I complained at least a few times each day: it's hard! If anyone is interested I have some bracelets left that I'd be willing to share. I think if people really lived with this goal we would be so much more helpful to each other with our lack of negativity circulating.

So when I have what I have coined rain brain, I think it's great to focus on pulling the gross mean emotions out of myself and channel the true me into other activities. It can be simple as switching a bracelet on my other wrist, or I can write about it, which you know I always advocate.

I think I will focus on making my appearance the catalyst for the rest of my mood today. Time for a post afternoon shower and a new ensemble to get the beginnings of how I feel to match the outside.

Peace be upon you,
Saira

Sayonara Saira

You know the feeling. Someone who was once quite new, and no longer is, tells you it's not going to work any longer, or at least not for the moment. What do you do? When I've been in this situation I have two go-to options, 1) cry, 2) complain. And as a recent third, go into a listless, apathetic, absolutely numb mode. That is by far the worst. Don't go there! It's natural to feel down. Revel in the downness and think about why you feel that way. Once you've had a cathartic cry and your friends are very familiar with the situation, then write it out. If you have a blog be classy and discreet with details, leave out names, but let it out. If you journal by all means go there. If the journal locks even better, and so vintage of you. :-) The point of this bit of writing is to not sweat the stuff that seems too big to handle. It's really not. It only completely and totally feels that way. Just to take it a step further with your worrying, let's go through why this way have happened.

When you make friends what kind of friend are you? Do you float along and go with what happens? Are you planning, planning, planning? The same question applies in the love department. I have realized I'm an overwhelming sort of friend. I am incredibly dramatic and loud and energetic. I want my new friends and the new people in my life to be my life. I've gotten better about this as I've gotten older, but the old Saira still lingers. It goes like this: bestestfriends for two weeks, a month, two months, but once that newness and excitement wears off people get plain tired. "How does she keep going?" they wonder. "Do her problems seem to end? No? Oh geez." That last statement is the one I imagine people saying from my past. I went through a healthy chunk of my life catastrophizing the smallest things. No text from said individual for two hours? Intolerable! Someone said this or said that? Unbearable. The key here, I think is to be the friend you want to be friends with. Now I realize we can't all change who we are, but we can certainly try to emulate those good qualities we are so attracted to in the first place. By all means don't kill who you are, but also recognize you will have to inevitably take on so much more to be a true friend and lover.

My current life plan involves so much meditation it's probably a bit much. But I never realized how much the inhales and exhales as primary focus is relaxing and reflective in retrospect. Just taking even ten minutes each day to clear my mind gives me more positivity and direction. I'm also loving music as therapy. Make some playlists based on your moods on Pandora. Feel like a sluggish blob of goop? There's a station for that. Spazzy Magees might enjoy some Vampire Weekend or The Shins, for example. People are great, good, fantastic to talk to, but every now and then people do not have all the answers: you do. So soul search yourself. Talk a thinking walk. Paint out your emotions. Or try this. You are going to raise your eyebrows at this one, but talk to an animal, even if it's your fish. Reason why is that they will not judge you at all. All they will do is unconditionally love you exactly the stinking imperfect way you are. What a refreshing thing! Make best friends with yourself today. Do it for life. It takes that extra effort each day, and pretty soon you will wonder what got you so down in the first place.

Your friends and the people you fall in love with are not permanent. It's kind of like when you watch the ocean and the tide comes in and brings some rocks and bits of debris, maybe even a starfish or five, and then it goes back out into the depths of the ocean. I think of the people in my life like that. God, sometimes I have been gifted with the most beautiful curious creatures, and then they go away. But. but. but. Chances are if they are the stuff of magic I thought they were, if they really and truly are, they will return. In some shape or another, they will be back. Watch the tide, wait for it, and live the amazing life before you.

I love me today. Do you?
Saira

bright pink balloon

Just now I closed my eyes and imagined the happiest most exhilarating object. I imagined a bright pink balloon, the joy I felt when I was a child and I got one of these after an auspicious event. I wanted to remember that jolt of happiness I felt because I have lately been in the trap of putting myself in a closed confined space in my mind. Sadness has washed away the memories of bright pink balloons. Instead of feeling instantaneous, unadulterated whee! I now see a wall of black, and every time I try to get past it I am reminded of its presence, looming over me like the great impossible.

I am still in transition. I am forming new relationships with friends, continuing to push through a new workout program, starting a new job, applying to graduate school this fall, learning so many "news." I'm finally taking the responsibility to become the person I have always wanted to be but felt too lazy, too scared, or too overwhelmed to become. I never had a good reason to start becoming before, but now I have no other choice. I must become the best version of me right now. Every day. With every breath I take and every choice I make I will become her, the person who smiles through her struggles and tries again, over and over, until persistence yield optimum results.

I like this Taylor Swift song right now. I relate to the lyrics, and I believe in them.

If you are in my life, I love you, and I can't wait for you to see the real me.

Love,
Saira