1. Surah Al Fatihah (The Opening) - Sayyid Abul Ala Maududi - Tafhim al-Qur'an - The Meaning of the Qur'an

1. Surah Al Fatihah (The Opening) - Sayyid Abul Ala Maududi - Tafhim al-Qur'an - The Meaning of the Qur'an

global domination...

I'm doing some work with a class of international students. My favorite parts are when we "get to" learn about "America." Today we're watching 12 angry men, as the students come from around the world, and although they speak english, we have go to over vocabulary first. Include such winners as, premeditated murder, reasonable doubt, unanimous, slum, acquittal, defense, cross-examination, hung jury, open and shut case, orphanage, circumstantial evidence, witness and forgery.

Kominas and the homeless

Last night I went to see a sunday night punk rock show. I wanted to see the Kominas who just happen to be touring, right through my town to boot. Walked a ways to get there, went the wrong way on foot for a bit. On the way I saw two apparently homeless dudes playing what looked like D&D. They had multihedral dice and papers both copy and handwritten that were obviously character sheets and other adventuring materials. I should have stopped and talked to them but I thought I was in a hurry. I do that to myself.

As we rushed past them I saw a third homeless guy settling in for the night, his sleeping bag spread out in an entryway, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. It was all I could do not to blurt out: Dude, you should go play D&D with those guys (and point back the 20ft). I mean, c'mon, what? you got plans? What are you going to do tonight?

Without my ID, I got turned away from the bar. 29, turning 30 in October, balding, don't drink, don't fight and I can't get into a bar. I laughed it off, patted the bouncer on the shoulder and told him he's a good soldier. I headed back to the car to look for my ID. I wouldn't say I was happy about it but I wasn't exactly worryiny.

A few months back, I attended a lunch with Dalia Mogahed where I met Kaitlyn Foley, who just happens to have been traveling with the band for some sort of reason, probably her work. Being turned away turned me to attempting to contact her. As we're basically strangers with a common interest I know it was awkward but through the call and a little happenstance, I managed to meet up with the bassist and his, I'm guessing younger, brother.

I walked into the back room to find the stage covered in a man hunched over a sitar, wailing. And then he was done. He picked up an electric guitar and introduced himself as Sarmus, saying that his band had been detained by the government, and proceeded to play a pretty sweet one man electric guitar show. Though I laughed at his statement... I'm hoping it was a joke? Right? I mean it's punk rock, right? I hope he's able to form the band he wants. His music was powerful, passionate and had a very good sense for melody.

Next came Prop Anon. Prop Anon's name is Gabriel, his email list was laid out in two columns, one read "Gabe" and the other read "Email." I had to stare at it for a minute before I realized that I was supposed to sign my name there. I was the first name on the list beneath his.

Prop Anon's shit was tight and he lives up to the name of his EP "Todo Corazon" - All heart. Solo (man & a macbook) Hiphop show, Prop Anon was lively, intense and confident. Playing along to an unforgiving track on a computer is hard work. Making it look good is an even tougher proposition - Prop Anon made it look fun. If I'd been familiar with even one of his songs, I would have possibly taken to the dance floor. His album is available for limited time (free) download here.

And finally the Kominas.

Michael Mohammad Knight wrote a book called "The Taqwacores." Qutoes on the back of the book call him the "Hunter S. Thompson of Islamic Literature," and say that the book is "a manifesto for the muslim punk movement." A movement that the book invented more so than revealed. The author does not want any credit for the movement, saying that it was "already there."

The book is about a group of muslim punks, who all (re)interpret Islam in their own way. Removing verses from the Qur'an, tattoos, dogs, weed, drinking, sex and even orthodoxy all find their way into the life of each character. Each making differing choices but finding acceptance for each other in what they do share, Allah (God), rituals of religion, sometimes culture and punk rock.

The Kominas take their name from one of the bands in the book. They put on a great show. They remind me of the clash, but fueled by paki-power and pure punk rock fury. Watching them makes you want to buy their CD and see them again. At least that's what it did for me. Bass grooves round out the guitars that swing between begging you to scream "Oi" and making you want to skank while the drums hold it all together. Everything I want in a punk show, plus a couple of top notch mohawks and something like a shalwar k'meez.

It was the straight hot sauce.

I left after their show as it was already past my bedtime. As I drove away I saw Omar from Sarmus sitting in front of a mailbox on his phone and at least three members of the Kominas in the back alley. I should have asked them if they knew where the IC was. As I realized how similar touring and being homeless are.

paying not to turn it on

so for the first time in my adult life I'm paying for cable by choice. I've lived with people who wanted cable and have asked me to help pay the bill (and I have because it's not worth an argument) but before now it'd never been my choice.

I found out at the beginning of summer that there was cable in my apartment free. I paid a bill and they told me that I had cable TV when we were going over my services. I didn't even have a TV hooked up. I even chose not to after finding out that I had it.

But then I caved.

I got a coaxial cable and started eating up a little too much worthless TV. It started with morning news. I hate morning news but there was a string of Obama's on TV stints that I wanted to watch (including his speech from Cairo) and I am usually up in the morning with little I want to do (something I'm working on).

The formulas are ridiculous. A bunch of douchy dudes and the 25+ aging-yet-still-supposed-to-be-attractive-in-a-middle-class-kind-of-way-but-only-because-she's-surrounded-by-a-bunch-of-douchy-dudes type woman. Or you can watch CNN and their rotating cast of chisled, attractive young news casters.

Same banal crap on repeat. I'm done talking about it. What's sad is that I was actually watching it. I got hooked on Iran and then Michael Jackson died and it snapped me back into reality and I turned it down. And then finally off.

Ah, but I do love the history channel's overacted reenactments and baseball and the discovery channel's coverage of the apocalypse and 2012. Sportscenter doesn't suck and I think the finale of Daisy of Love is on... tonight?

Meanwhile, Charter is bankrupt, DSL sucks and there is no air signal anymore.

There's a thunder storm brewing outside right now. I'm watching it roll in. A whole world of things to do and there's rarely anything good on TV. Night time is better suited to reading or socializing with close friends. Relaxing, whereas TV is exciting and advertising sucks! Yet, I'm paying for it because it's five dollars more expensive than broadband.

It must be time to work on priorities again.

Truth and Facts: Religion

Golly. I just spent almost forty minutes watching some youtube vids about Islam and Christianity. I am at such extreme odds with organized religion but I find myself easily put off by those who would refute the revelation. It's easy to attack religion. Horrible things people have done quickly destroy the shreds of decency or credibility attained by a given belief system. A reminder of the importance of separating what people do in the name of a religion from the true tenets of a religion.

With their metaphorical imagery and and sometimes outlandish claims, it's easy to attack holy scripture and prophecy. As the majority of religious texts are made up of these two things (and their incredible antiquity), it follows that they too are not difficult to take "issue" with. To the contrary, I've found a fair amount of universal truth in the religious holy books of various monotheistic, religious traditions and what I struggle with is typically found in the doctrines extrapolated from the text. Doctrines typically enforced by corresponding zealous orthodoxy.

I quickly come to odds with the opinions of others that don't make sense to me. I struggle with the gospels of the bible's new testament as valid accounts of the life of a man called Jesus as they were written (here & here). However, the words attributed to the man and his teachings contain some solid advice for living a rightly guided life. Regular lessons on the importance of humility and keeping our thoughts and actions in line with each other are fairly universal themes usable and understandable by all (greek & aramaic). When the doctrine is focused on these aspects of the gospels I have no qualms with it. But unfortunately, as I and so many others have experienced (evidenced by the sheer quantity of people who leave their faith behind in a clamor, railing against their former religion), the doctrine seldom stops here.

There's defense of faith, apologetics, interpretation of scripture and prophecy; there's a whole bunch of misogynistic crap. One of my troubles with monotheistic religion is how I don't hate women. If I am given the choice between religion and God (الله, YHWH) I choose God every time, and regardless of revelation, I don't believe that God sets a different standard for women. I don't believe that a man's hair and a woman's hair are any different, or that lust is something that affects only one sex due to the nature of the other.

If it doesn't make sense to you, maybe it's not for you. Rules are made to be ... broken? I mean really, there's all sorts of rules in the Talmud, the bible and the Qur'an. If there aren't any rules then no one ever does anything wrong? I don't think so. Humans are humans were humans, we're humans and we've avast an incredible (or is it tiny?) amount of knowledge in our age. Our technology has changed (improved?), we've discovered medicines and mastered running water (also, I'm sure it smells better these days than it has in some prior ages and places) but how much have humans really changed? Hopefully we've gotten more civilized from the "Ten hairs away from baboons," that Lewis Black uses to explain (@ 8:11 ) the Jews of the old testament.

Taking ancient religious texts and ideas at face value is dangerous. Words can share or could have shared many meanings in the time and place they were written and mean very different things now (see above Jesus links). Look at any religious website trying to disprove another religion and the subsequent counter-arguments. Another repercussion of face value texts leads to end times, armageddon-end-of-the-world style prophecy.

Despite a vast and varied display of incredible circular logic religious debate is by and large a moot point. Because in the end a person can't believe in something they don't believe in. You've got to want to believe in it. If you don't want to believe in it you won't. Perhaps the Qur'an says it best in the 109th surah, al-Kafirun (سورة الكافرون); the disbelievers/atheists (literally translates in the xerox morphology as "the infidels"): "O disbelievers (1) I worship not what you worship (2) nor worship ye that which I worship (3) and I shall not worship that which ye worship (4) nor will ye worship that which I worship (5) unto you your religion, and unto me mine (6)" (Pickthal).

Maybe some people need religion. Maybe they need the exact religion they have, exactly the way they follow it. Whether it's factually true or doctrinally correct, so long as it's not preventing you from living the way that feels truly right to you, why fight against it? If faith is what's important, doesn't it have to be important to you. In a way, faith is making yourself important by putting what you truly believe above all else. Both the sinner and the saint can claim that only God can judge them. Changing a little here or a little there, removing passages or expanding on the ideas presented therein might make one's religion worthless to another or dangerous to many. It could also be exactly what someone needs to feel comfortable in their own skin.

This is thin ice though. Picking and choosing what to believe is the fast track to heresy and apostasy in religion. It is really not uncommon for me to feel that the "message" and the location of "power" in religious organizations are off-base and/or in the wrong hands. I struggle with taking all of anything at face value. When 90% of something is amazing and 10% is forgettable I want to focus on the 90% and forget about the 10%. I want to utilize what empowers me to strive and eliminate what hamstrings me from the same.

Whether debunking spiritual prophecy or using science to prove the existence of a creator God, isn't the important question: how does what you're doing make you a better person, today? How are you making the world a better place? In an interview on "Radio Without Borders," (Wisconsin Public Radio) author Michael Mohammad Knight reminisces about early 90's Hulk Hogan. Paraphrasing the Hulkster, he says, "Hulkamania is a standard you can never reach, but you just keep trying."

Chew on this:

Wouldn't God want us all to be the absolute best we can be? Both together and separately. Fulfill all your potential potential. Utilize all that God has blessed you with. Maximize opportunities through preparedness and right action (right place, right time and ready to go). Whether you call it lucky or unlucky; free will or fate; the hand of god or random chance. If rules guide you there, follow them. If they lead you away from there, find your own path. No one walks your road but you and only God can judge you. Sometimes, words just get in the way.

More or Less

I want to wake up in a better place

A better world, not one that's falling on it's face

A slow decline - the sudden stop at the end

Sun's gonna rise - inshaallah in the east again

Rushing up, forming crowds and breaking lines

Is this the last act flashing before our eyes

or the starting of the rising tide?

I want to reach out

but not to break the fall, calling interference

This is not the time to cower in the shadow of doubt

This time we can clasp our hands around the world and

pave the streets by pounding the pavement, with our feet we'll

Stand together - all around the world

When the riot act is falling on deaf ears,

It's time to open your eyes

With one heart beating, back against the wall

No way to give up in a crack down

With everybody looking for the smoking gun

Can you ever go back home, now that this has begun?

Pay no mind, to the man behind the mirror - and all the lies

This is so much bigger than an election or a leader

If politics and fashion are the same thing

Then human rights are as real as what's in between

a you and a me

There's a fine line violence getting walked on

A united front in divided times

There a set amount of getting stepped on

Before it's time - it's time to rise up

I want to clasp our hands together

pave the streets by pounding the pavement with our feet

Stand united - all around the world

While there's a leaf blower blowing up the white house lawn

Millions of millions are getting dusted in down town Tehran

Paying in blood but taking baby steps forward

While the world watches on over youtube's shoulder

Just killing time, while they're killing themselves

In the name of freedom and for hope itself

Living in the nightmares

we use to get scared

of others just like ourselves...

If we ever wake up - this will be a better place

If we ever wake up - we can make a better world

not one falling on it's face

If we ever wake up...

Everybody wake up.

early morning puppy poop patrol

I woke up to the least fantastic sight of the week: plenty of poo in my doggie's kennel. Boo Uhura, boo. This is a first. In three weeks she has not pooped in her kennel for an unexcusable reason (she poohed in it when we left her with a strange lady - her vet - over night last weekend, but she was super stressed, and I wasn't there so I forgive her) until this morning/last night.

I'm going to be perfectly honest, I don't know what to do.

I cleaned it off the kennel itself. I hand washed her blanket and pillow, followed by machine wash (where they are now), and I shortened up her kennel space from all of it to just over half. I took her outside where she pooped and pee'd again and I have to give her a bath at some point. If she'd ever stop whining I'd take her out of the kennel again (I don't let her out when she's being vocal about wanting her freedom).

=(

I want to have fun with her and take her for a walk, but I don't want her to have any sort of reward associated with crappin the kennel. I love this little puppy and even though I'm not so pleased with her antics, I understand that she is a natural creature with needs and bowels and that this is probably my fault. When she makes her mess inside I feel like I failed her.

Symbolic Waking Dream After Meaningful Experience

I have had a waking dream.

I have dreamt:

A wall of ash taking the shape of people and animals on it's leading edge - It's moving, they're moving - as fast the wall can advance. It shifts between shapes like leaders in an infinite amount of races. Rushing towards doomsday, rushing towards the end of existence. Fading from the front is like slipping into quicksand - at what point is it all at a loss?

But not all are arriving as such. A banner, I beacon or a sign-post. A standard upon which rests a lengthy oak staff . High above the lengthy column of followers (reds and oranges, uniforms or robes?): A red phoenix in an sphere. In it's iron cage the bird appears joyful, either mechanical or most pleased. The bearer of the standard wears a silly hat - it is four, black folded corners upon a white cap. Triangle/diamond shapes folded up on a half sphere. They were very different than anyone else.

When I saw the ash wall, I thought, "where am I?" I didn't feel represented, thought, "Have I fallen back into the disintegrating ash?" I looked upon the phoenix with admiration. I did not feel like I was a part of the ash.

I dreamt of an angel watching over me counting each action I make marking it's length with and without using numbers, colors. I saw him counting down, but not moving backwards. And, as well as also - never instead - like two angels. Outside my concept of time.

Time moving through itself. The end coming from it's beginning, the beginning crossing through towards the end. Perhaps circling back upon itself only to collide again.

I thought of the Judaeo-Christian-Islamic idea of judgement day. I looked up to a door in an archway where it was assumed that Jesus would be and it was empty; like it was his apartment and he was elsewhere. He was where he is supposed to be. I looked up and saw Mohammad(pbuh) praying for the ummah and all who would be saved by the mercy of ar-rahman.

This was happening on a desert plane seemingly nestled between the ever shifting ash-like images seen above and below, not a reflection but not a separation either; flowing like water and smoke.

[+-=#=-+] felt bigger than anyone's concept of GOD could contain - larger than perception itself. I didn't know where I stood and I worried about whether or not that meant I'd be consumed by the ash but for the first time since I ever imagined hell, I felt safe.

* * *

If our genes are codes that contain possible preferences and capabilities... Nature & Nurture - programmed for better or programmed for worse but given a choice. The better can choose worse, and the worse can strive for better. With time working forward and backward. The entirety seen as crystal clear from outside. All things known.

Beyond life, I felt alive.

One Minute Drill - Topics

So I think I need to pick a topic before I start writing these, or else I'll never get any of it done at all. I should probably just leave typos in and keep writing too. Just keep going and not stop for any reason at all. It's going to be really interesting to see what comes out of this. I should make a long list of topics, or maybe even start a whole new blog for these. One minute drill.

Already Sunday

Funny, I said to myself, "I'm going to write every day." I planned to sit down and write for twenty minutes. I need to learn how to downgrade instead of just canceling. Maybe just write for five minutes, or however long it takes. I should start writing in one minute bursts. And hold myself to the time limit.

20 minutes - 1

so it's nine o clock and I'm writing. I'm going to write for twenty minutes today. Let's see how long this gets. I don't really know what to talk about, and I'm not planning on editing much out of here. It is incredibly windy outside. It's been cloudy and stormy for most of the day and the wind is howling outside.

I always worry about tornados. I'll never forget camping with my grandpa between seventh and eighth grade... or was it eighth and ninth? Either way, we were in ohio and there were tornados on the horizon. I remember seeing three tornados in the distance, marring the sunset. I was so afraid but I do not recall my granddad seeming the slightest bit concerned.

I wouldn't let the tornados out of sight until it was dark. That night a wild cat came into the motor-home. At this time, my grandpa and his wife were traveling around the country in a motor-home with two cats. One of the exterior cargo areas had interior access so they would prop it open and that was the kitty door. That was how the wild cat got in.

The domestics were no where to be found and the feral cat found itself "stuck" in the driving area behind the curtain. It was bounding and lurching and pounding it's head against the windshield. All the while giving off its natural sounds for frustration and confusion. It sounded like an air-raid.

And that's what I think about when I see storms blowing in or hear the wind howling through the trees, rattling my windows. Wild cats and tornados.

* * *

With my remaining eleven minutes I'd like to state how gall-darned excited I am for this summer. I've just completed my first YEAR back in college, which means I have about enough credits to be considered a sophomore and a half, but just about everything upwards of 30 is practically worthless.

I went to school three times before this. [suddenly] It's really pouring outside...

Sorry, interrupted by heavy rainfall. I do love the rain. times up. =)

Oh the Places you will GO!

so finally, the semester is over. I'm pretty sure I blew my arabic final completely and pretty sure I sucked the marrow out of economics - whatever that means. I think feature writing went way too easy. Basically, exactly what I thought. Hopefully something wonderful happens.

It's either time to get a job or it's time to go camping. Either way, this summer is slated for trips.

Hopefully I'll see everyone soon.

be the change you want to see in the world

these are my goals for the summer:

1.) continue learning arabic by speaking with arabic speakers and studying the Quran. Also, the internet.

2.) travel to visit family and old friends

3.) avoid refined sugars, processed foods and TV

The Lost Documents of Solomon Strangelove

http://issuu.com/samosborne/docs/the_lost_documents_of_solomon_strangelove

I finished my capstone project for my literature class. I count myself blessed for being a part of a literature class that let me interpret the curriculum into a work of fiction. الحمد لله I am almost as pleased with the work as I am with the formatting. It's called "The Lost Works of Solomon Strangelove." It's all made up.

I transposed the stereotypical Islamofascist onto an inquisition style catholic framework to cook up a make believe ultra conservative religion and I gave them oodles of untapped resources. I made up a country run by industry and technology and let them verge on civil war as they run out of resources. I put them on continents on opposite sides of the same globe and pitted them against each other. The high-tech invading the low-tech. I imagined a journalist put in the middle of everything and wrote a story from his perspective. Something like a collection of unpublished essays, articles and notes.

We started the class reading "Letter from a Birmingham Jail" by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr and a comparison to Barack Obama's Inaugeration Address. We then proceeded to read "Night" by Elie Wiesel, "Maus I: My Father Bleeds History" by Art Spiegelman, "Hiroshima" by John Hersey, "A Balcony Over the Fakihani" by Liyana Badr and "Unbowed" by Wangari Maathai. Solomon Strangelove's journey takes him through my personal journey via the assigned reading.

"The Lost Documents" contains five chapters. The first chapter is an unpublished interview with a jailed civil activist and advocate for change. It sets the stage for the coming conflict and paints a dismal picture of home. The second chapter in, Solomon gives us his immediate reflections on and experience in The Promised Land; short on options, too many problems. Chapter three is about a sandstorm and a struggle. Chapter four skips almost five years ahead, brings sweeping destruction and changes the game. While chapter five reveals the truth, Solomon sees the fraying at the edge.

If I have succeeded, the story continues long after "The Lost Documents" ends.

This semester was a journey for me and this class played a big role in my thoughts. I was constantly rushing through the story. It wound up with so much going on that I found myself rushing through, and glossing over much of the detail. At times it might really read like notes. Each sentence like a snapshot. إن شاء الله I am proud of it, though I will never feel like my work is done.

I would like to flesh these vignettes out into a real novel. I've always wanted to create a world and this one is generic enough that the options are really limitless.

she doesn't mention the word addiction... In certain company

For some reason I've had that ringing through my brain tonight.

Imagine my brain is a bowl of water and fish, a fishbowl or aquarium of sorts. If I don't change the water regularly the water clouds, fish die and it starts to stink. This is my brain when I'm not writing regularly. School assignments don't count. Professional writing, scholarly writing doesn't help me at all. It's a labor. It makes my mind work. It's awesome when the water is clean but it's just agitating a murky pool if it hasn't been kept up.

When it gets bad like this it's really hard to remember everything. It's hard to get all the fish out of the murky water. If I dump the water I lose some really good Ideas. If I don't keep up on my thoughts they just start adding to the murk.

OMG Finals!

yech. I don't have time for anything fun anymore...

One more week.

Spring Tree (w/o leaves)

my arching branches haven't seen their leaves just yet

the wind blows, weaving through my slender limbs

the smallest of my youngest branches scrawl through the sky

fractal claws

life nurturing knives

I am dark and cold - the sun has not kissed me much today

beneath clouds prepared to burst, I am still moist from their rain

I crave their water - I will hold the ground together - feed me

I will feed you

I will shelter you come summer

and let you watch me melt away in fall

I have seen more of you than you can dream

generations that come and go

but without disease I will outlast stone

still standing

until you cut me down

How much is too much?

I pushed myself super hard this week, and if the deadlines that I thought were true were real, I would have failed in my tasks anyway.

Feature Writing: 2,000 words ("How-To") due last tuesday, 2,000 words ("Participation") due on tuesday.

Peace and Conflict in Lit.: start and finish Unbowed, write the next installment of my story (usually between seven and ten pages).

Arabic: Memorize another ridiculously unusable monologue.

Micro Economics: online homework (easy but time consuming)

On monday I missed my bus three times. I know! Right!?! So I didn't go to Lit or Arabic, instead I knuckled down and I wrote a how-to for my writing class. I hated it. I thought it was piss poor, and it didn't have an audience, or anything interesting. For about two weeks I've been excited about Dalia Mogahed coming to town, and how I'd been blessed with not just being able to attend her evening lecture/presentation on her work with Gallup Polls and the book she co-authored, "Who Speaks for Islam?" but also to attend a round-table discussion with her, quite a few experienced Madison journalists and some Christian religious leaders in the community. I think there were 15 of us. I was by far the least "experienced." That was tuesday afternoon after Econ.

I then pounded out a how-to that was not what it was supposed to be, but was full of informative facts and quotes from Mogahed, her book and the panel. I wrote about how Islam is being misrepresented in the American media (a how not to), and then I ended with a little about how to improve that (a how to? not really). This class is so frustrating, but it really does give the feel of what I think "reporting" might be like. I just wish the articles didn't have to be so long.

So except for the reading, monday was a wash, tuesday was too full for anything to slip in, and wednesday was coming fast. I ended tuesday dehydrated and full of Glass Nickel Artichoke heart pizza and apprehension.

Wednesday: Lit and Arabic (and taxes!) I waited for an hour at H&R block for my appointment, I read the whole time without complaint. I Still haven't finished the book, I haven't written my paper, I haven't memorized the dialogue. Turns out he book isn't due until next wednesday (apparently we are deviating from the syllabus again...), the paper isn't due until monday. We're watching a movie. Really?

Arabic went smoothly, we focused on learning and grammar instead of the memorization. There's a quiz on monday. الحمد الله

guess I'll be ok. Another whole weekend to pound through this.

Gotta Write something

So Today I hurriedly threw together a video to enter in a musical challenge. On friday I found out about it, and decided that I didn't want to do it. Then someone I know submitted a video, and it made me realize how upset my mom, and Maddy's mom might be if they found out that I didn't.

So I did.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1UrQr_Zvsts

Easter Sunrise

I will never forget the childhood drives to Lake Matthews. So many failed attempts to see the sunrise on easter morning. The weather was not always kind. I think it rained all of ten times in my southern California childhood, but that didn't stop the weather from regularly clouding up the Easter sunrise. I can recall two successful ventures over the course of about five memorable years. This is a low estimate. I know that it was twice, but I'm pretty sure there were more than five attempts.

I remember making easter gardens. Baking tins filled with dirt and the roll of TP along with various dying shrubbery and a smooth stone. Representing the tomb in which the body of Jesus laid from good Friday until easter morning or as I called it, "the shortest three days." Sure Friday to Sunday is three days, but Friday night to sunday morning can be as short as 26 hours, and is regularly less than 40. Neither of those numbers are 72, the amount of time that I, even to this day, attribute to the "proper" length of time described by the phrase, "three days." On Easter morning I'd move the stone, to show that "He has risen!"

I think that the first year I made the tomb garden one of my parents moved the stone before waking me to "go chase the sun" -- as we called our overcast, early-morning, easter adventures. I never believed in an easter bunny. I was smart enough to know that miniature Jesus didn't rise out of my easter garden, not even metaphorically. Though looking back, the making of the garden meant a lot to me.

Easter meant one-use clothes when I was a child (judging from the pictures, this consisted primarily of pastel short suits), and it meant wearing clothes that I didn't want to as an adolescent (anything my mom thought looked "nice"). Easter meant family and specifically dad's family. I don't recall ever seeing my mom's family on Easter. This was because dad's family was religious, and mom's wasn't. Dad's family went to chuch, mom's family smoked cigarettes and drank beer. So did dad's family, but I wouldn't know for years about all the undercover vice.

As a young adult living in the aftermath of his parents divorce, I only remember losing all touch with ceremony. I couldn't tell you what I did for Easter from the late nineties until just a few years ago. I know it didn't have anything to do with church or religion though. There were a few years in the drunken slumber where I think I stayed up all night to watch the sunrise. I recall at least two of these attempts failing as bad as my childhood memories. Though I recall a few sunrises, I couldn't tell you if any of them were Easter.

As an adult in the age of SMS, I dread many "holidays" for the stream of text messages wishing me a happy easter. The majority of which read: "Happy Easter!" (and the vibration comes again, "Happy Easter!" and again) with some occasional wit. I try to call my life's important people on holidays. I regularly fail at this. I'm a bad friend, and I'm not good at being family. I'm not good at being in touch, but I'd like to think that it doesn't mean I don't love.

It's been a long time since I've spent Easter with family and I wonder if that is why I feel like I'm coming off so jaded about the whole affair. No, I don't want to cry. I'm fine, and I actually enjoy having friends. I cherish (even if only in my heart and in my memories) the close friends I've made and lost. These people are in my thoughts today as I harbor dreams of resurrecting some lost connections. Though, I don't know where to start.

Living the Montage

Man, what a rapid cycling weekend. Seems like I've been all over the place since my last post. What started high, went real low, and in the end it seems to have worked itself out. Now? School work, test and a paper, read a book (a whole book), vary my sentence length. Talk about boring.

الحمد الله

السلام عليكم

What an amazing day today! الحمد الله I found this [read a book] on my morning web-hunt, shared my experiences in school with some close friends, and spent the evening dining with some pious muslim brothers. Humor, mental stimulation, و صلاة

I'm finally getting an idea of how to best use my time. Goals, and dreams are making a comeback, I feel a montage coming on.

This summer...

I have got to write a book. It's time. I've got too many different ideas, choosing one is going to be difficult, and I might just start writing all of them; Lord knows I've got to switch gears often enough for school, I'm starting to get used to it.

time to find time to write.

time

I am always amazed at the amount of time it takes me to do something. Except when driving, I am rarely correct about how much time it's going to take me to do a given thing. I'll just sit down and write this paper, that'll take me about 4 hours. 2 hours later it's done. I'll just re-write this paper, that'll take less than 2 hours. 4 hours later, it's still not done. Same thing for hobbies, same thing for walks, same thing for bike-rides, and most certainly same thing for sleep.

travel piece

I've got to write an "article" about my trip to Italy, and I am pretty unsure about where to start. I've got an idea referencing the power of a travel agent, but this was such a unique experience I think it's almost worth just writing something a little less journalistic and a little more about the experience. Vignettes maybe.

The memorable moments of the departure and the subsequent malfunction that led to the flight's cancellation. The young girls who lost all shreds of composure, Sobbing into her cellphone, "I just... I don't even care about going, I just want to be home with you. I will not get back on this plane." The awful smell, the plane banking back towards chicago at such a low and slow altitude. The groans of the hydraulics... this would be no ordinary trip. It was friday the thirteenth, we were scheduled to land in Rome on the ides of march.

The whirlwind walking tour of rome (to and from trainstops/bustops, an apt. and the vatican on no sleep. Crushed in between my girlfriend, my mom and the upity snoot in front of me. Up all night on the plane reading the Autobiography of Malcolm X. Walking the streets of rome, hurrying back to the apartment, feeling like I was dreaming (best "high" i've ever had - au naturale - just a touch of exhaustion), it was amaizing. Crouding onto the bus, the chilren. Aqua, and I held up three fingers. Blissful sleep. Waking up with children staring at me. Fiat ride up the hill. Pat. Dinner with Carlo, Celso, Pat and Pete. "You just want a salad? you've got to at least get some soup."

Perugia.

Todi.

My european jeans, and the tailor on the square. Trains planes and automobiles. Cab ride back to the airport. 20 hours of traveling home. Halfway around the world in one piece.

I kissed the ground. 5 good landings, I only thought I'd need four.

!الحمد الله

Making the Transition - Under Atack!

Bjeebs! I been attacked, windows style! Emergency! I was using firefox on my mac and I got one of those shut everything down, tries to take over your computer pop-up attacks! Now I've got to switch over to Safari 4... and install no script on firefox, so the internet can look lame again! yay!

good night sweet prince

Tomorrow I head to Green Bay to play cards. That's going to be fun...? right? Supposed to snow, I don't really want to go, but I really want to be there. I've got no decent decks to play, and a dozen other things I should do. Still, nothing has the appeal of spending my day driving, eating bad food and hanging with a bunch of smelly dorks in an enclosed space. Sounds like a proper spring Saturday to me.