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.