One Year Later

If you would have asked me a year ago, where I thought I'd be right now, my answer definitely would not have been married, teaching at a Muslim American school, and living in Oklahoma.

A year ago today, people were remembering 9/11. Nine years had passed since the tragic incident. I remember it vividly. It was Ramadan, it was a Saturday, and I was working on assignments due for my online Organizational Communications class. I was wondering what I was going to write for my thesis. I was considering my future options. Up until that point, I had been considering going for my Ph.D. right after my masters, but I started reconsidering my options, thinking of going back into the work field, to bring something fresh to my Ph.D. when I finally went for it. I was thinking about moving to DC to take a communications job. That's what I was thinking about that weekend in my room.

A year later, it's also the weekend. Yesterday I witnessed the most breathtaking sunset I had ever seen. The sun majestically descended the skies, creating extensions of fire across the horizon; it's rays igniting the tip of every cloud. The breeze drifted across the water to where we sat. I leaned against him taking it all in, feeling his heart beat against my back, and in his fingers intertwined with mine.

I am on a leather couch as I write this. I just had some pizza and wings, the game is on, and my rock and anchor is by my side on the couch. I'm wondering what lesson I'll start with tomorrow for my 7th grade English class. I'm tossing ideas back and forth about a new song I've been thinking about. I'm mentally planning out my new workout schedule. But most of all, I am at peace. Because I feel his fingers, gently resting on my leg. And I feel safe.

The reason I'm writing this is a year ago -- not even in my wildest dreams -- would I have ever imagined being this happy and content with life. The last year has been a blur. It began with a serendipitous trip in the middle of October, a promise in December, a ceremony in February, and a timeless celebration in May. Now, a year later, I have to pinch myself to check that I am not dreaming. God's blessing is overwhelming.

You see, the reason why this is of the utmost magnitude is because I was so sad for SO long. I was in the darkest of places with no way out. I used to feel so helpless and so alone, that being this happy -- even a year later -- is a foreign concept for me. I still don't get it. But I am learning. And I love it.

So this year, I celebrate this moment. A small, tiny moment that consists of me sharing a Sunday afternoon with my husband, before the craziness of the work week begins. A moment that consists of feet propped up, laptops in laps, and fingers touching. This moment has been a lifetime in the making. And it was worth it.

The Past and the Future

I am at a crossroads in my life. Taking the time to breathe in and out at times like these gives me peace.

It's happened before, and it will surely happen again. However, there are decision-related crossroads, and then there are don't-mind-fuck-with-me crossroads. Yeah, I'm at that one.

I'm not the type of person who feeds off of people's pain. I don't purposely try to hurt others to make myself feel better, and I fully believe that good should be paid forward, 110% of the time, and that that's life. That's how it should be. We will struggle, we will fall, but at the end of the day, we should be the best versions of ourselves, because the way we choose to be is the image that lives in the minds and memories of others, and THAT image, is you.

I have been dealing with a specific situation my whole life, that has been nothing but a burden, and has always been filled with pain. There is one fond memory that I have with this person, when I was on an amusement park ride, with my hands raised in the air, the breeze blowing my pigtails back, my smile so broad that my cheeks hurt. And I remember thinking, "If I had the power to freeze time, I would freeze it at this moment."

But alas, that moment passed, and now I'm here. Many, many years later, reality is unkind.

I am not a hater, I am a lover who probably loves too much, too fast, too deeply. But it is who I am.

I do hate some things though.

I hate broken promises. I hate it when people don't carry out something they said they would. I hate irresponsibility. I hate people who victimize themselves, instead of owning up to their mistakes. I hate people who don't follow through. I hate having my heart broken every time, like it's the first time.

I hate who I am sometimes...

This is a joyous time for me. It is a happy time filled with challenges, good memories, and I have a man in my life that has lifted a thick veil that has been over my eyes for so long, and in so doing, has made everything beautiful again. I am truly blessed. And it is the thought of that blessing that helps me breathe in and out at times like these.

The things we write...

I found myself on the floor with four 8 year-olds yesterday during recess. I'm supposed to be overseeing the children as they play, however one thing led to the next, and I found myself on the floor, legs crossed, being asked a million questions about my music.

"You write songs?"

"Yes, I do."

"About what?"

"Many things."

"Like?"

"Like...love, loss, people, forgiveness..."

"What do you write about love?"

It was a fairly simple question. But I really struggled to answer it. I told them I write about love and how beautiful it is, but also about how some people don't know how to take care of it, so we have to surround ourselves with people who appreciate it as much as we do. It seemed like such simple answer to give, and I reassessed it when I gave it to the girls, to make sure it came out right. As they dispersed back into mayhem, I got up and thought about what I had said.

It's funny.

Why do we give our hearts to people who don't deserve it? Furthermore, why do we hope that people will change? Or imagine them to be different?

I went back last night, and poured over my lyrics, reading things like "I wish you well" and "So easy for you to walk away" and "words are nothing but a way to exhale" and even my most recent work, "as soon as we peel back the covering, we see something that is ugly, or missing, or incomplete." And then it hit me. I write about how people don't take care of love. And my message is to stay away from those kinds of people. And yet...I don't do that.

Whether it's knowingly, or unknowingly, I gravitate towards people who cause pain. And it made me wonder. Is it because that feeds my creative energy? And people are more likely to be touched by pain than love in music, because suffering is the human condition? Or do I have my own issues that I need to deal with?

Maybe both?

I don't know.

In Love With Two People?

Let me ask you a question: Can you be in love with two people at the same time?

Now mind you, I've always thought the possibility of loving two people simultaneously was absolutely ridiculous. I mean how can your heart beat wildly for two different people, your face grow hot for two different people, your stomach ache for two different people? I've always been with the "fall in love with one, forever" school of thought, but after one conversation, one experience, one gut feeling, and one stupid third installment of a movie series later, I am reconsidering.

See the thing is, I think that people come together and part ways, fall in and out of love, but all in all, keep moving forward. They tell the same stories, sometimes even the same jokes, just with different people. But they carry their stories with them through it all. So let's say I fall in love with someone, and I share my life with them -- you know, those stories we repeat about family, friends, where we've lived, etc., and it doesn't work out. Then sometime later, I meet someone else. And I share these same stories, just with a different person. However, sharing them with a different person makes it new somehow. Know what I mean? But you still have your past. That never really goes away.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that sometimes...we find different parts of ourselves with different people. And I think ultimately, after all of the confusion, heartache, and mistakes, we make a choice. What is this choice? I think most of the time we haven't got a clue until we make it. But I think that that choice has to do with how well the other person fits us. How that person fits who we are. NOT who we want to be, or who we want to be FOR them. Just for us. As we are. No changes, no alterations...just us.

However, even though I believe that a person can have feelings for two different people, I think that deep down, one of those two wins out in the end. I think that if that person were forced to choose right then and there, life or death, kiss or never be kissed, they would make a choice...a choice that was obvious for everyone on the outside, just not for the people on the inside.

So do some people look back and wonder? How about that guy dancing with his wife on their 25th anniversary, whose mind involuntarily wanders to that bus ticket he never used? Or that girl whose married with two children, who in the middle of her grant proposal thinks about that date she never went on, with that amazing guy she had met unexpectedly? We all do it. We all wonder. We all have our "what if". However I think that if forced to choose, we would make that decision, thereby disproving that there is equilibrium between feelings for two people. The scale would tip in favor of "the one" we decide on. Then we'd know.

So is it possible to be in love with two people? Yeah, I think you can be. But I also believe that you love one a bit more than the other. Just enough to make you choose, when you absolutely must.

The Box

Today I received a box

That I had sent months ago

It was a pretty, pretty box

That held things that no one knows

The box has stars and things

Really a box within a box

A pretty, pretty box, with goodies and strings

Holding sweetness, love, and clocks

The box contained a letter

A letter that was never read

A letter that held a promise

Of things that were never said

I sat beneath the sun

With the box, packaging and such

And began to throw out the things

That had once meant so much

I read the letter one more time

Words I thought other eyes would see

But alas, they were never read

By anyone else but me

I ripped the letter slowly

As I watched children play

And folded the gift paper gently

To use for another day

I kept the pretty box

It was too pretty to throw away

Perhaps I'll use it another time

Anytime but today

Things I Learned Today

Today, I spent the day with my best friend, her husband, and her family. We went upstate to a beautiful commercial village where bored people go to spend money on stupid things. Here are some things I learned today:

1) Life changing events are not things that happen in a crescendo of sound and music and dramatic camera angles. They happen in small moments, in nonchalant comments, in passing suggestions, in the blink of an eye, or in the skip of a heartbeat. Or both.

2) Pizza is not overrated.

3) I can blink back tears quite successfully, but I cannot effectively hide how I'm feeling inside.

4) Scenery can actually become visibly duller when you hear something you didn't want to hear.

5) As sad as some things are, and as horrible as some things are, it always catches me off guard how I am not surprised by the cruelty of people, by the way they take advantage, or by their constant short comings. And that is truly sad.

"Even if you fall on your face, you're still moving forward." - Robert C. Gallagher

Let's hope so. Otherwise, this is getting old. And so am I.

Hi my name is **** and I'm a...Facebook-aholic?

Ok, so I wouldn't write about this if it wasn't so momentous:

I deactivated Facebook for 24 hours, the night before last.

I wasn't spending an insane amount of time on it or anything. Or even finding it difficult to get off. However, for some personal reasons, I decided to deactivate, and disconnect from the world in general for a day.

I must say that it was liberating. It felt good not being a slave to the social wires that seemed to continuously tug at my brain, no matter what I was doing. I moved more freely, and thought less about things that had been bothering me.

But I thought more about Facebook. And that's when it hit me: I have a soft addiction for Facebook, and the Internet in general.

As I was doing my daily laps in the pool, I began thinking about my routine last semester. I left my house about 20 minutes early to get to campus, so that I could go to Starbucks, get my tall, non-fat mocha with whip, go into the faculty lounge, and check "my stuff". And if traffic held me up, I would get seriously upset that I couldn't have my "computer" time. Oh, and if things got busy during the day for some reason? And I couldn't check my e-mail in the middle of the day? Oh forget about it! One time, I got so irate, as I was squealing "I haven't checked my e-mail all day, this is ridiculous!" I realized how ridiculous I was sounding.

So is it an addiction really, or do I just cherish my "me" time at the beginning of the day? Possibly, it's a little bit of both.

But I must say that when I reactivated last night, it felt good. I only stayed on for minutes, but the access itself was reassuring.

I felt connected again. And if you think about that, that is a scary thing.