"Don’t depend too much on anyone in this world for even your own shadow leaves you when you are in darkness" -Ibn Taymiyyah

Life is so weird. And I'm in a mood. So if I regret writing this later, maybe I'll delete it. But right now, here are my unedited thoughts.

Sometimes I think "treating people the way you want to be treated" is a bunch of crap. I think we should treat people, the way they treat us.If someones nice to you, be nice back.If someone is a jerk, treat them like a jerk.If someone is rude to you, be rude back! It just makes so much more sense to go through life like that. I'm tired of doing the other thing. Where I'm nice, and get treated like dirt. Or when I'm constantly putting myself out there, only to be disappointed by them time and time again. And sure everyone has their own obligations and priorities and what not, so I have no one to blame but myself for hoping. But at the end of the day, when all is said and done, it's still not fair. And I'm kind of tired of it.So I'm just giving up.And I'm just going to change how I get treated by people.And I'm only going to rely on God. inshaAllah. Because this constant feeling that I'm feeling, is making me tired. And it's draining so much from me. And I just cant do it anymore.

So I'm letting go of you.

And you.

And you.

The story of The End of an Era..... and the Beginning of a New One

A long, long time ago, in approximately 1984, my parents migrated from Bangladesh to the United States of America. Just as any parents(or humans, rather) that migrated prior, during, and after that time period, emigrated to the United States of America: for a better life.

So upon entering the land of the free, my parents moved into a house that was owned by my maternal grandfather and grandmother. They resided their with the latter, my two uncles, and my mom's sister and husband and kids, and then us. There were many a people living in that house. It was literally bursting at its seams. Four bedrooms, and each bedroom was occupied by each family. My family was in the master bedroom cause we had the largest family at the time. It was my mom, my dad, my older sister, older brother, and me.

Eventually as time went on, so too did our family members. Until it was at the point that the only people still living in that house was us. My immediate family. And by then, we had grown to an additional family member. And then another. And another. No one in the extended family wanted to stay in that area, they wanted to get out of the "ghettos", which is kinda ironic cause they left one ghetto to live in another.

Aside from that though, we were the only ones left. And my dad had already enrolled us in a school that he really liked so he bought the property from my grandfather and we stayed.

For 27 years.

This past April, we finally moved out of that house, and into a new house away from the depreciated urban city .

For the past five months, since we purchased, signed, sealed, dotted the I's and crossed the T's, I hadn't given much thought to the upcoming change that was looming. After all, there was much work to be done to the new house. Much, much work. It almost seemed like we would never move in. Or by the time we did move in, I would be married off and in a house of my own.

It's funny how one's words could become so true.

So here I am, writing this post while sitting in the new house, and not really wanting to write it.

And also while sitting in the new house, talking to my brother about my new apartment.

I'm moving out of the current new house and moving on to my new life.

With a new person.

The person that I hope and pray that I'll be spending the rest of my life with. InshaAllah, God willing.

And so here I am.

Here we are.

And this is the end.

But also, the beginning. InshaAllah.

P.S. I am very dramatic, I know.

One day, with a fly swatter, we shall conquer the world

Dear World,

I'm not sure why but I'm so irritated with you right now. Yes, YOU. I imagine everyone and everything and I start getting this annoying gray cloud over my head.

...I just went back and re-read the two lines I just wrote and I've decided that this post is going to be different. It's not going to be be about me ranting and rambling about how I couldn't sleep because of my throat and how professors are frustrating and other stuff like that. It's going to be positive and inspirational!

So hold on while I think for a second.......

Oh I do have something to share. I was at my University clinic the other day and I had to turn in my school ID card well, for ID purposes. After the nurse practitioner that checked me out and and basically made me come out feeling like an idiot patient, (I hate it when random practitioners make you feel like that) I went to pick up my ID card. The lady at the front desk had a collection of some international passports ( I think for the international students?) and ID cards. I tell her my name and watch as she naturally moves towards the international passports and I stood there quietly watching her as she looked through each passport.

I could have saved her some trouble and told her , "Excuse me ma'am but I turned in my school ID card, and even if I did turn in a passport it would be an AMERICAN one"

Instead I decided 1. it really wasn't such a big deal anyways 2. I'm sure she'll figure it out soon enough 3. I'm too lazy and I have nothing else to do all day 4. I am not about to call somebody ma'am...I don't know why but I always felt weird even using that term in my head.

Anyways, it turned out that I had to tell her anyways cuz she was getting kinda confused when she couldn't find me. And in her defense, my ID card was kinda hidden.

ANDDDDDD that's it. Moral of the story is, well I don't think there is a moral. Okay this story had nothing to do with positiveness or inspiration, I don't even know why I just told you guys about it.
I'm confused.

I'm just going to give you a moral of the story anyways and it ISSSSSS, (*looks up cool sounding Chinese proverb*) ' Do not use a hatchet to remove a fly from your friend's forehead'

Because, you know, the hatchet can kill them. So the moral of the story is buy a fly swatter!! And use it gently people, seriously, those things can hurt.

Note: This moral is for another story, a story...in the future...the sometime very soon future of one day.

Sharing a meal: when faith and culture unite

Yesterday my mom cooked iftar, the meal during the time of breaking fast, for my husband's family and neighbors. In the Bangladeshi culture, parents prepare a large iftar meal for their married daughters, sisters, and sometimes aunts (female married off relatives) as a sign of upholding relations.

The meal consists of some basics: chicken or meat biryani (rice with spiced meat) kisoori (lentil and rice soup with herbs) chana (black peas with potatoes and ginger) and fyazi (fried lentil kabobs with mixed spices), dates, and sweets.

Additional items can also be given: aloo chop (potatoe kabobs) meat or chicken kabobs, fried spiced and seasoned eggplant, and other finger foods that are easy to distribute. Some people make it fancy as well. This year my mom added chicken nuggets for the kids.

source: xanthis.wordress.com

The food is then brought to my house and distributed by my mother-in-law, who will give it to family members, family friends, and neighbors. 

Prophet Muhammad peace be upon him said, “Whoever gives Iftar to one who is fasting will have a reward like his, without that detracting from the fasting person’s reward in the slightest.”
(Narrated by al-Tirmidhi).

Special packaged ready-to-distribute foods are given during other times of the year as well. For example, if I went to stay over my parents' house for a few days, I'd be expected to take something back to my home to pass out to my family and my husband's family.

I love when Islam and culture unite. Share food and share faith.  

I don't like bacon anymore.

Muslims, like Jewish people, aren't allowed to eat pig or pig products in any form.

I happened to be obsessed with it. When I accidentally ate baked beans with bacon bits in it, I attributed the good taste to the bacon bits. Some Muslims are shaking their head at me, thinking I shouldn't be so obsessed. God said don't eat pig, He didn't say I had to abhor it. I've never intentionally tried pig/pig products. Ever. I don't even eat meat that isn't Zabiha or kosher {Muslims can eat meat from Jews and Christians}.

I'm just a curious cat.

Anyways, my obsession ended the other day.

We have a KFC here that serves Zabiha meat. Zabiha = meat that is prepared in the Islamic way. Like Kosher for Jews. I'm not sure what Christians call their method, but I will look into this. Basically I can eat all the sandwiches and fried chick'n I want. It's finger licking good. And it feels finger licking good, too.

One of us ordered the Doublicious. We didn't know bacon was involved. I don't know how we did not know, but we obviously didn't look at the picture or read the description. Short story shorter, it stank & KFC is responsible for killing my curiosity. And it looked gross, too. Maybe because it was fast food. Maybe it tastes better than it's appearance. This was an important milestone in my life. And I was met with disappointment. I guess it's a good thing, from a religious perspective.

We returned the sandwich, telling them we didn't know about the bacon strips and they kindly replaced it with a new one, which smelled completely different. And it was yummy.

The house near the school I went to swimming classes for as a child had a dog. 

And a pet pig. And we weren't even in the boonies. 

I hope they didn't eat it. Eating your pets is a no-no.

Banana & blueberry nutella crepes

Crepes! I love them sweet & I love them savory. I love them in the morning and I love them in the evening.

Pardon the photos, I didn't think I'd be blogging about this. And pardon the lack of presentation, as I knew my baby sister wouldn't care about how it looks & I was too busy dying starving fasting to make it look pretty. As long as it has nutella on and in it, she's good to go.

I thought these would be difficult because they're so thin. But after one or two I got the hang of it. I made these a few days ago for my little sister for breakfast. And then again for when we broke our fast.

I love all recipes. I get most of my stuff from there. Here is the basic recipe I used this time. I've tried it with vanilla and nutmeg as well, but went plain this time. For the filling I used nutella, bananas and blueberries. The top of the crepe is sprinkled with sifted powdered sugar.

Ingredients

• 2 eggs
• 1 cup milk
• 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 pinch salt
• 1 1/2 teaspoons vegetable oil

Directions

1. In a blender combine eggs, milk, flour, salt and oil. Process until smooth. Cover and refrigerate 1 hour.
2. Heat a skillet over medium-high heat and brush with oil. Pour 1/4 cup of crepe batter into pan, tilting to completely coat the surface of the pan. Cook 2 to 5 minutes, turning once, until golden. Repeat with remaining batter.

ps - I used butter, not oil to cook them. Butter makes everything better. 

On Top of Things. For five minutes

I forgot that I don't live with my mom anymore.
Which means that I need to know where important things are.
Like my Debit card. And bank statements.
And Reciepts and warranties of the washing machine and two laptops we just bought.
I thought I lost them.

So bought a file with dividers in them. One file. For many small, important things
It's green and from Walmart {my new favorite store and third home}.

But I forgot I don't live with my mom and didn't organize anything for a month.
For a month the empty file sat on the nightstand and stared at me.
It would have kept staring had Mr. FallingUp not shoved it into the drawer.

Then I realized my mom doesn't live with me.
And I cleaned out the drawers and gathered all the receipts and cards {gift cards too} and labelled everything. Now my file is full and happy. The end.

This was the proud moment of my day. My highlight. This is my life. My housewife life until I take my boards.
The end.

 One time my room was so messy the cleaning lady refused to clean it. 

My mother did not find it amusing.

I'm Depressed.

People do not have food or water. They are dying because they do not have food or water. And here we are, complaining that we can't breathe because we are so stuffed after shoveling spoonfuls of food down our throats after breaking our fast at dusk.

People have NOTHING to eat. NOTHING. How many times do we open the fridge with food hanging off the shelves, complaining that there is nothing to eat. How many times do we complain throughout the day that we are starving and we can't wait to break our fast? Some people don't have food to break their fast with.

How many times are we asked to donate and decline politely, saying we are on a tight budget and can't afford to, maybe some other time. You go home that night, trying very hard to figure out where you're going to put all the clothes and makeup you bought that day.

People are dying.

I'm not saying donate your whole paycheck anywhere. I'm just saying we can do what we can to try to help them. And if we think we can't, maybe we can give up one luxury for one day day {ex. a coffee/pop} and donate that each month. Every little bit helps. Imagine if everyone gave a a little every month to people less fortunate. It really adds up and hopefully would make a difference.

Remember to keep the starving people of Africa and the rest of the world {including your neighbors, you never know} in your prayers.

http://www.islamic-relief.com/donations/
http://www.supportunicef.org/site/pp.asp?c=9fLEJSOALpE&b=7542627