If I only have an hour to get out of town, I’d try to not think about the reasons why I’m being evacuated, and just pack up. Anything. A few pairs of clothes, some water, granola bars, and hopefully my cell phone battery won’t be dead… Really though, if there’s something drastic taking place, would I really have the chance to pack up? Wouldn’t I just pretty much check if there’s a bottle of water near me and run, in any direction? That’s why we’re supposed to have earthquake preparation kits, so that in the moment of crisis you’re not running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Although, even if I had the kit, I’d most probably be still running around like a chicken with its head cut off. But that’s just me. Hopefully millions of others aren’t like that. Because we’d all be running into each other at that rate…
I can be an immature nut around my siblings, but in public I’d much rather people didn’t notice me. It sorta, kinda sucks when the attention does land on me, and they decide to ask me a question. They’re really just trying to be polite because my mother and sister do most of the talking, so naturally I must feel left out. Or when I’d be in class and the teacher decided it was really boring to have the same students answer over and over again, and would a point her finger anywhere and somehow it would land on me. Yay! Not! Sure, I knew the answer, but it’s just not fun. Especially when you’re wearing niqaab, and it feels like everybody expects that when you open your mouth you’re supposed to have a foreign accent. The only time it was hilarious having the spotlight shine on me was when everybody was visibly bored with fellow classmates sign language presentations, and somehow I went up and everybody sat up and paid attention. In the moment, that really sucked, because I was counting on them not to pay attention.
It goes without saying that I would not be the one standing in a line who wants start a conversation. Nor do I want the other person to start a conversation, since that would mean I have to reply. I wish I could entertain harmless chit chatter, but clearly I’m a just a bit awkward. Thankfully, the most a person can do is comment on the weather outside though, and I don’t know if they want a conversation or they just feel a compulsion to say something, anything. All I want is to buy my bags of chocolates, get outta there, and get home to watch an episode of Bones. Because eating chocolate while watching Bones is a spudtacular combination!
Over the last couple days, wherever I am, a Comic Sans hating post is sure to pop up. It was my favorite font when I was 9. Then I grew up. I ditched it for Arial. After that, Verdana became cool to me. Does anybody really use Verdana anymore? Or more importantly does anybody even at least remember Abadi Condensed? Oh man.
The other day, I saw somebody defending Comic Sans and said they use it to make graphics. My jaw dropped. Of course I am quite possibly snobby. There are a million free fonts out there that are easy to download and install! Why settle so low? Graphics aren’t like essays; the rule with graphics is to use different, funky fonts. Yes, I said it’s a rule. Look it up. Wait, you’ll look that up, but you won’t bother installing a more interesting font? You must be kidding.
I have mild OCD issues. I have to settle on a font I like because it will be used consistently through the year. I cannot have an essay written in Verdana here, and Arial there. That makes me look flakey. Of course, there’s a potential that my flakiness might be noticed simply by reading what I write. But that’s a test of your perception. 😉 Now I love Trebuchet. It’s not as boring as Arial, but not as fun [or childish, take your pick] as Comic Sans. It should be the new default that replaces Times New Roman. You wouldn’t believe what torture what I felt when I was required to have my essay in Times New Roman. I loathe that font. Sure, there are instances where it can be used. But my precious essays are way too awesome to be dulled down by that font! Maybe I did increase it’s honor though, by using it.
Brick was right. Know your fonts and you can strike up a conversation with anybody. Or just with yourself. Fonts are amazing. Italics are as well.
The other day I saw these words, but I didn’t know then that they were lyrics and thought it was just a poem.
Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
Then I read that the person liked the song, and I go Oh it’s a song! Before even listening to the song, I spun a peppy sounding thing in my head and was like that must be a cool song. Just for the heck of it, I went to listen and see if I was right. Dead wrong. The dude sounds drunk or something, it’s traumatizing. I guess that must have been the only way they could get him to sing something so mushy. *snicker*
On the topic of music, NaBloPoMo’s prompt the other day was about music and whether I prefer music with lyrics or music without. And yes, it lasted about 3 days before I figured prompts are pointless for me. I like nasheeds, so it’s really all about the lyrics which I mostly don’t understand because I never learned Arabic. *sniff* But still about the lyrics and never about the music. I don’t get the logic behind listening to a song where you can’t understand what they’re saying, or in some cases screaming. If it requires captions to be on, there’s something wrong people! Does it get cooler than this?
And then there’s always the songs my brother makes up, and those lyrics… They’re just wow, and nothing would be more fun than to record him, but I might get in trouble for violating the copyright. 😉
I have learned what makes one refined and cultured, especially when conducting their wedding. Let me clue you in, so that you may know how to plan your future wedding accordingly.
Have the fanciest wedding possible. If you can get your wedding inside DisneyLand, perfect! Dress up like Cinderella, enter in a pumpkin, have sideshows of your fascinating life, and you know, all that jazz.
If you’re the father of the bride –I’m wondering why you’re reading my stupid blog for advice. Anyhow, let your daughter pick out whatever she dreams off. You don’t need to be there when she’s making decisions and picking out the location of the wedding. Your only participation required is your credit card.
Make sure to take as many pictures as possible of your ultra amazing affair. If you don’t, you won’t have proof to show your children how cool you were back in the day. They’ll think you’re ignorant. You cannot have that. So do the right thing.
Shallow human beings burning money, all while saying they’re suffering economically. Really? I wouldn’t have known. It’s funny that it is the very same people whom if they can abuse somebody’s rights and get whatever it is they want for free, by golly they’re going to do it. That is not ignorant at all, and I’m sure their future children will agree. It only makes sense that they cannot treat their imaams well. I mean, hello, anybody can look in the Quran or Saheeh Bukhari and Muslim and figure out the ruling; besides, the Imaam is backward. He’s most probably against photography anyway, because he doesn’t know better! 😦
Why pay somebody like that? Well, I don’t know. Because you just wasted Allah knows how much on a one day affair, when your big family could have gathered together and done a pretty good wedding yourselves? Or maybe the same reason you pay for a class at college that you have no intention in getting a degree in, when you could have just bought the textbook and learned it all yourself, without the hassle of stupid exams. Or the same reason you hire a personal trainer to come to your home, when you could just watch a couple videos yourself, it’s not like the trainer is helping much. Well to be fair, the trainers are doing a good job on the brides, just not the aunties…
Don’t complain that Americans are ignorant towards Muslims and deprive us of our rights. We do that just fine ourselves and it’s okay, right? Ah fine, complain about Americans and have protests. It makes you feel good that you done something for da Ummah, and who am I to deprive somebody from a pat on their own back… My gawsh, I hate protests.
…please shut your stupid car alarm off. It shut off once, and I got happy, then it started up again. Then it shut off again, and I got happy again. Then it went off again and then when it shut off, I’m anxiously waiting for it to start up again. And you know what? It did! Stupid conditioning experiment.
Oh my. I wrote those words out, and he/she actually shut the stupid car alarm off! I think this is a sign that I must blog more.
…the less I want to be around them.
I knew a sister for a while, and when they say first impressions are lasting impressions I guess they’re right. Whoever “they” are. I didn’t really like her, but then sometimes you just misinterpret somebody when all you have to go by is a forum post. Besides I was 15, and how smart are you when you’re 15? I was smart enough to know I was dumb. Fast forward 6 years, and I realize I was right back then. It sucks to be right about something so wrong. It sucks when you realize somebody was practicing something not for themselves, but for another person. Now that the person is out their life, the belief is out too. Maybe the person wronged her, but does committing a wrong against yourself make matters any better after you’ve been wronged by others? Life goes on though.
For some odd reason I always assumed people went to the masjid for the blessing of being there. It’s nice to hear the imaams do a khatam, and you feel less lazy doing it in a congregation as opposed to by yourself– although I personally prefer to be myself mainly because I don’t enjoy the after Taraweeh socializing. I went for the Khatam al Quran at the masjid though, and boy oh boy were there a lot of people. It made sense to me, it was Khatam al Quran. Other places started a night earlier than us and were finished, so some people from those crowds decided to head over to this masjid. 20 rak’aah finish, and I realize what they were really at the masjid for. Mitai. This must be very special mitai for them, and if they had to drive 45 minutes to this masjid, they were going to. All of a sudden people were surrounding the ones carrying the big boxes in which the little boxes of treasures were. On the one hand, I’m thinking okay, the people paid for it, so let them go nuts for it. But then there’s also such a thing as respect and dignity. But hey, quite a special honor to those making it, people are in love with their hard work.