you know, a rat gets shocked a few times and knows not to go back…

I think that I am still a baby - emotionally that is. I mean I look like an adult and I have the brain of an adult, but emotionally, it’s like I never got past childhood. I mean, I even sleep like a baby - in the fetal position or with my arms up over my head. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, actually. I always had a very free nature and I never really went by the norms of society. Plus I grew up very isolated. Not only were my parents ultra strict (which I know they were just looking out for me) but also I was so weird I just could never make any friends.

I remember I loved learning - in fact, school would be a dream if it wasn’t for the social factor. I mean, I’m the kind that actually enjoyed my defensive driving course (when I got a ticket)! But in school, I dreaded lunch, where you would have to sit with friends, group projects, even free time because the teachers assumed you would want to get with your friends. If you didn’t have friends or know how to relate to normal humans, then it was difficult. I remember once I got ISS (In school suspension) and it was like the funnest thing in the world - you sat all isolated, didn’t have to hear boring lectures or deal with classmates, did your work, and went home with no homework! I wondered why all of school couldn’t be like that. ISS was no punishment, for me!

I spent most of my days in the girls’ bathroom, crying in a stall during lunch time. Finally, I got tired of being such a coward and I just said to myself, “You know what - you are alone.” After I accepted myself for who I was, I actually enjoyed being alone. I used to go under the bridge to these woods by a bayou, and I would take off my hijab, read, sing, pray, eat my lunch, and take in the beauty around me. I looked forward to lunch as my haven away from school. Most of my youth was spent alone with books, music, movies, and other things which made up the world I lived in - located in my head. The characters, authors, and artists, both living and dead, were my “friends”. In fact, I felt so comfortable with myself, I guess people noticed and some even asked me to sit with them (something I would have killed for earlier), but by then I preferred being alone!

I suppose by adulthood. no one could really top the amazing people in my head. I pretty much preferred being alone and found most people boring. But more than that, something I didn’t realize at the time - I was very withdrawn as a person. I mean for me socializing is surreal. Sometimes it is purely Islamic for me - I smile and say salaam to like every sister. I also believing in keeping the ties of family, relations, and community. I also am hypersensitive about including everyone, especially people I perceive as left out. Sometimes this fools people into thinking I am very social. From another angle, I can be very very open about my own feelings and emotions, but again, what most people don’t realize is it is quite “impersonal” on my behalf - it’s more like self-expression or art to share a life experience with all of humanity or something.

Yet in adulthood I continue to have some oddities. When I got married the first time, in an arrangement, I remember I couldn’t be open with my husband - to the point that I could never look him in the eye. I mean he was a nice person, but I never felt comfortable enough with him to let my guard down I suppose. In general, I also can’t stand touching people. I sort of wince when I have to hug sisters, but it’s like taking a deep breath and plunging in - and it’s over soon. Once in a while I’ve been in a situation some sister will lovingly hold my hand and be childish with me, holding it for a while or something. And I try, I really do try to enjoy it, but it makes my skin crawl. If someone starts talking to me real personal, I tend to back up and start crossing my arms in that old defensive posture. Lol, I once had a marriage counselor (for my first marriage) look pointedly at me and say in her calm, maternal voice, “You don’t like being touched, do you?” It sort of shocked me that she could see that lol!

Anyway, what’s odd about all this is that somehow even though I am childish in nature, I tend to be bigger than everyone around me. What do I mean? I don’t mean I am older or have more knowledge or authority or position. It’s just many times people look up to me or they actually act more childish than me - I hate to say it, but I am tired of being bigger than everyone around me! I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t have anyone who I can talk to - not anyone I trust to lay down my troubles or cry on their shoulder. A sister once told me, when she heard about my marriage (the first one) that I was more independent than anyone she had met, who was married, and she said she thought perhaps I wasn’t meant to be close with anyone, that I was to be close with Allah. I do think about that sometimes, but I know I’m not a saint, so I am afraid to assume things or build myself up as righteous or something. I don’t know - life is so strange.

And what’s weird is I feel like I’m “institutionalized” - like I’m so used to being alone, I actually feel weird if I’m in a social gathering. I remember as a teenager I once went to the mall with some girls - and I was sort of excited like “this is what a normal teenager does!” but when I got there, it’s like I felt like running home and burying my head in my mom’s lap or something - it was so strange - I actually told the girls I would meet them somewhere just so I could wander around by myself. And until now when I walk, I walk all slumped and not making eye contact. It’s just a habit after all these years.

In the mean time, I sometimes get people who want my help - I guess I am so open about my feelings, they feel they can trust me. I am very sensitive, so I do have a lot of compassion - I really feel for people and I want to help them if I can, even if I’m a nut. This one brother spilled his guts to me (my husband was copied of course) and he even like insulted me a lot in the process - because that’s how it is when you’re sick in the head - you tend to be insecure, etc. but I stayed calm and helped him get past all that. But now I have no idea how he’s doing - he just stopped communication. Inshallah he’s ok, but I worry. The thing is, there is no one in my life I can be weak around, not at all. The one person in life I have actually after all these years opened up to completely berates and torments me if I show signs of insecurity or weakness. So I guess I don’t know what to do. I know if I was a better Muslim I would indeed have a relationship with Allah which would be enough - and I try to but it’s hard and I feel so weak sometimes. Also, I don’t know what it is about human beings - why the hell do we even feel “lonely” or feel the need for human companionship? It’s so strange. Either way, I have always felt alone and I guess after all these years I still am.

For some reason, when I was growing up, no one really saw me as a very “girly” girl. I’ve always been childish, but not very feminine. For some reason, I remember people saying I can be “intimidating”, which I didn’t see at all - as I am quite open-hearted towards everyone. But I do remember growing up, when I saw very “feminine” girls they would either be very docile, shy, or quiet (in a sort of mousy way) or be one of those preening, vain, fashion-and-popularity “social butterflies” obsessed with hair, makeup, and clothing. And I didn’t really like that and didn’t want to be that. So when I was a teenager I guess I would kind of deliberately try to be “gender-neutral” in my mannerisms. It would make me cringe if I felt I was walking or sitting “like a girl” because I’d get that image of one of the shallow girls around me. It’s not that I wanted to be a guy - I just didn’t want to be too obviously a girl. Being too girly meant not being taken seriously, having people look at your chest while you talk, etc. I wanted independence and power, and that was the best solution I could come up with - to dress, talk, and act in a way that would not focus on my gender.

A consequence of this is that most guys (and girls) saw me as “one of the guys”. I mean, guys would talk to me in my classes as if I was a guy. They would tell me about girls, etc. One guy, after telling me some stuff, said, “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t sound like a pig etc.” You see, he had forgotten he was talking to a girl! Now this was something that went very deep, because I remember before I wore hijaab, one day I was at the mall and I was dressed in tight clothing and my hair was out - and this guy walked over and tried to hit on me. He was one of those gross guys with his shirt half unbuttoned, about 19, making the rounds obviously. And when he came to me with his lecherous little “what’s up” I merely looked at him and said, “Yes?” The fact is, the way I looked on the OUTSIDE seemed one way, but my deameanor was I suppose like Wednesday (or is it Tuesday, I forget) Adams - so incredibly serious. So immediately you could see he was disconcerted, for he did not receive his standard giggle in response to his question, and he slowly showed himself out (of my presence; also he was a bit surprised when he found out I was 12).

Also, when I started wearing hijab and then jilbaab (I was 16 then), people actually thought I looked like a “nun”, which I guess I did in comparison to what everyone around me wore. So you’d think a nun would be quite a feminine character. Yet, even then, something about my mannerism made people not see me that way. Every day I would trudge out to go to the woods behind our school and the headbangers (lol which I was one myself if it only meant listening to heavy metal) would offer me a cigarette and everyday I would politely decline (it became a sort of running joke between us). One time in my aerospace/aviation class (ground school, which was an elective) they had some assembly where half the class of one grade had to leave and the teacher left as well. As the class was mostly boys, I was left alone with a bunch of them, reading and minding my own business. Again, the guys let loose on talk of their girlfriends and everything (lol I think if the average girl, who is often shielded from such talk heard what guys really think of them and how they talk about them, they might not go out with them). And again, after their little bull session they look at me and start getting quiet and uncomfortable and apologize to the “nun”. I shrugged my shoulders and said I didn’t care - I wasn’t their girlfriend (thank god)!

Not only that, if I did have a temporary “friend” in high school, it would be a guy, someone who shared math or political science class with me, etc. and lol you may not believe it, but these were “platonic”. We would talk about the most fascinating (boring to anyone else) academic subjects. And I had no idea HOW to flirt - I simply did not have the capacity (I guess I would consider it “fakeness”, which I despise). I remember some girls teasing me about a guy once and I was so shocked because it never occurred to me the whole guy/girl angle! And it turns out if a guy did “like” me, I cannot even recall - my sister would say “Don’t you remember that guy that would talk to you in Driver’s Ed, etc.” and I would say “Who?” and usually I am quite good at remembering people. I feel somehow I was protected from a lot of fitnah and I’m grateful for that, but at the same time I feel a little freakish.

And you know what, I feel that Islam has freed me. I no longer care about being “feminine” or not - I can relax and just be natural, nor do I see femininity as something necessarily shameful or degrading either. And yet, all these years later, when I have managed to relax and allow myself to be natural, and have even learned how to “lighten up” (you don’t know how many times I got told to do that all my life!) and even learned how to crack a smile, people still see me that way! And I mean Muslim guys, even religious ones (I don’t normally hang out with non-Muslims). One guy who is actually quite strict and religious and is a family friend I remember made some joke to Sas about good looking women or something (I was in the back seat of the car) and I remember thinking, “My god, if it was any other sister, he would not have made that joke!” Even the other day one of Sas’s friends made a very crude remark to me and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that!” and went on to say he forgot he was speaking to a sister.

You know, I didn’t mind it so much growing up, and I suppose this has some advantages (mainly that you are not focused on as a “girl” and people do not censor themselves around you, etc.) but it’s getting a little annoying now! My husband sometimes tells me the same thing, that he treats me “like a guy” because he respects me lol. But in a way, it also saddens me because in many ways I’m still a little girl - yes, not a FEMININE woman (I had a hard time calling myself a “woman” for so long - I don’t mind girl though because I like children) but a girl just the same. And I guess if the situation were reversed, if people were very dainty and deferent to me, I would also get annoyed, but there must be some kind of balance! I think maybe people are so very fixated on gender, they think “guy or girl” and shove you brutally into one category. But I wonder if the world, once it gets past my external appearance and gets to know me, will always see me as “one of the guys”.

One thing I live by is lists. Lists are good for everything: for your goals, your plans, your schedules. They are also good for keeping track of your own character. I keep a list of my sins and other bad qualities or habits I am trying to get rid of, plus a list of good deeds or good qualities I am trying to acquire. Now anyone who has made any lists knows that things don’t always work out the way you intend. But keeping lists keeps me sane. Even if I get hardly anything done, I make a new list and keep going (what I call “recalibration”). For some reason, I feel the need to write everything down, down to what I will cook and clean! If I don’t make my lists, I feel I haven’t started my day. Often it’s also the last thing I do before I go to bed - make a list for the week, the month, the year, the lifetime - for the coming day. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a writer, but lists rule my world and I feel useless without them. I guess I feel if I’m not planning on doing anything with my life (education, career, worship, etc.) then I’m just wasting my time and my existence. So it’s a continual sort of mental process which gets played out on paper (I prefer notepad on my laptop). In fact, sometimes when I’m overwhelmed with a mental problem I like to sit down, pull up notepad and write out the solution, using logic for theoretical problems or golden rules of character for emotional or life problems. It’s very empowering and I feel very anchored with my obsessive jotting. I am just mad about lists!

I had a dream about a week ago where a Shaikh made an announcement to the Muslims. He enjoined us all to be “real” Muslims, and instructed us that the duty of every Muslim right now is to:

1. secure your possessions - your laptop, etc.

2. piss off the government

3. get thrown in jail

I hate fake people in general, but fake Muslims particularly irk me. First of all, our entire religion is based on truth, so how could a Muslim act like that anyway? Secondly, it’s a bad quality in general since you should strive to be sincere, and this should be true of your dealings with Muslims as well, as all that is a part of Islam. But most of all I guess I get hurt because we’re supposed to be brothers and sisters, so how can some people be so snobby, conniving, and calculated in their dealings with each other?

I have seen some Muslims take help from others and then turn right around and scorn them. I have seen some who will only sit up and say a proper salaam to you if you’re a bigshot or if you know a bigshot. I have seen some who will act one way with you when they are alone and a completely different way in public.

I know I can’t really change this, but as I said, I hate fake people in general, and fake Muslims in particular annoy the hell out of me.

“I’m so happy cuz today I found my friends - they’re in my head.” - Nirvana, Lithium

I grew up very isolated. Not only was I a generally weird person - too open, too openhearted, too naive, too socially awkward - but my parents were very protective of me. Although I went to school and my family did know and mix with some other families, there was no consistent social life. I was barely allowed outside the house, especially on my own, to meet anyone or do anything. So I spent the majority of my time alone. Well, I read somewhere that if a child has an imaginary friend, it’s because they are trying to fill a void in their life, and that if they get real friends, the imaginary ones will go away. Conversely, if someone is alone a lot, they end up constructing an entire world for themselves, with everything they need, including companionship. So yah, I had imaginary friends.

 Basically I craved “intelligent conversation” (like Holden) so if I met anyone smart or interesting, they went into my “collection”. Mostly it was dead people - authors and philosophers and such, but also musicians, filmmakers, world leaders, etc. It was just so cool talking to anyone at any time. Albeit, I realized it was merely my own mental reflections of what that person might be like and merely a pleasant diversion for myself. In fact, I had very little interest in what the person was actually like - I might read an interesting article once in a while as fodder to feed the fantasy, but I didn’t care to pursue and seek out any personal details of anyone (except maybe if they were dead, as simple biography). Sometimes if I found I was in error in judgement about someone, I might even ignore reality for my own version. After all, they were my own companions, concocted for my own purposes.

I didn’t really think anything of it at the time, but once in a while I’d think to myself, “My God, I am crazy!” And of course I felt like a loser. When I got married for the first time, I figured, there was no way I could keep my imaginary friends. I mean, if you live so intimately with someone, you can’t very well indulge in such a fantasy life, can you? Well, it turned out that although I did live with someone, we were worlds apart mentally. There was a barrier of formality between us. At one point I thought perhaps I had even sabotaged my own life by imagining so much - after all, what human being could really compete with the amazing figures of your choice? But now I know it did not cause the distance in my marriage but rather was a continuation of the coping (with lonliness and boredom) I practiced in my youth. But finally, after I married my current husband, sure enough, the imaginary friends disappeared. For the first time in my life, I was actually in contact with a real person that I liked enough to prefer to imagination!

Don’t get me wrong - in some ways, I believe being so isolated helped me in many ways, just as a child who has very few toys will just push their own creative limits and find ways to amuse themselves. For one thing,  it made me very independent and a self-sufficient child. You could put me anywhere, and I could quietly amuse myself. It also gave me a lot of time to think about things - so I gravitated towards philosophy, arts, and religion. Most of us talk to God, but I think I did it a lot more than your average American kid. And at this point in my life, I no longer think of it as “crazy” - I just think most people act like they are not “losers” and never resort to imagination to fill a need in their lives. I think it’s just a conspiratorial secret in our society since there is such a stigma attached to it. And although I no longer need it, I do look back and see that I had some of the most magical, exciting, adventurous experiences ever. So don’t worry - I won’t judge you if you have the guts to admit that you do it too. :) 

I am very attuned to the weather. I can feel the change even if I’m nowhere near a window (meaning I can’t visually or physically determine a change). Winter is a special time. For some reason when the cold comes on, it is an exciting time - not the excitement of spring, which is very pleasant, but the excitement of getting in touch with an old feeling I used to have. Winter has always meant spiritual awakening for me. I think it was a combination of a few things - some art that cast this tint on winter in my youth - reading Hawthorn, watching Fiddler on the Roof, and hearing October by U2. All these things have a spiritual/religious flavor to them and feeling the cool wind and being bundled up in cloaks and clothing always gives me a feeling of stark peace. For this reason, I always look forward in particular to winter.

I don’t know why, but I love math. I’m not necessarily great at it, but I love numbers and the way they fit together. Oftentimes when I am doing things, such as writing lines of poetry, I aim for mathematical symmetry or a pattern of some sort. I don’t know why, but it’s very hard for me to break it - I keep coming back to it. Even if I do something which isn’t mathematically lined up, I might line it up to fit the numbers more than the objective of the task.

I remember briefly considering majoring in mathematics in college - but what I was mostly interested in was the theories behind the numbers and systems. It’s no surprise in the “olden days” philosophers were mathematicians and mathematicians were philosophers. My instructor - a math major student teacher - also agreed with me - neither of us wanted to do math in a “practical” way - the only thing that is that practical for a pure math major is like actuarial statistics (working for an insurance company). He was pretty young and I remember how weird it was having this long-haired guy teaching us the class and every single one of his examples was about drinking beer or getting drunk.

Also, the book we used was AWESOME because it didn’t just have math and theories, but all these biographies of mathematicians. It was so fascinating. Man, there are proofs which people have tried to get for hundreds of years - like we still don’t know why some things work out the way they do. It was pretty inspiring.

When I was a kid, we saw a fantastic Disney cartoon about numbers in nature - I have tried to look that up but never found it again. When my kids were a lot younger, I remember I would always try to find them math “stories” and puzzle books. I also always loved those logic puzzles - you know the ones where there were 5 people and one lived in a red house and smoked Pall Malls etc. (does anyone else remember these?).

Anyway, I love math and numbers and have a fascination with them. Maybe I just have OCD.