Today I ate pork
It was at a friend's bridal shower. The order was messed up. We were all nearly through eating when someone came around to inform us. I feel foolish, because I ate like an animal. It was good food, but sometimes when I'm thinking of other things, I just sorta eat without taking the time or noticing much of anything. My sister was telling me that it tastes like fish that she wasn't familiar with. I just ate. Afterwards, two cups of coffee, a cup of chia two hours later, then chamomile tea just an hour ago. Nothing is helping. I've got paranoia about that pork and it's translated in my mouth as a very unpleasant taste, or tinge of something. Long time since I last posted. Classes are over. I've been rediscovering my brothers and sisters in faith and their goodness. A few things helped in that: the every-other-weekly classes with AM that I spoke about earlier (Henceforward, AM shall be known as Ahmed Uncle), Ingrid Mattson�s wonderful speech a week ago, and then my lovely friends, elders, and students I�ve been seeing lately. Throughout my young adulthood, I�ve always either resented the Muslim community, been baffled by it, or just plain tired of dealing with it. That�s partly the reason I stopped teaching at the Muslim school last year (note: partly). I always expected the adults to show the way, to have a plan. For the most part, they didn�t. When they had coherence and vision, I hung on to them, giving them all the loyalty and respect I couldn�t use on the others. So I did have heroes. A few Islamic studies teachers. The principal. My parents. Ahmed Uncle and Huma Aunty. But they were all exceptions. And then I�d see people doing something right, trying to put their priorities right, and they were badmouthed. Teaching last year, I knew our school had no mission that I could understand or work towards. It was meaningless. They only read it an in-service because strengthening the mission was a suggestion from a teacher. At the same time, celebrating birthdays was the biggest sin on earth, as bad as playing cards during lunch time. It�s not useful to see just that in a community, it�s neglecting a lot of their collective goodness. So here�s a list: Good is in my old student who used to focus so hard at a point in her mind, that I could almost see her create it before me in air. Look at this class for instance. Good is in my friend, who had a brain surgery last year. She was saying today that the only thing she could hear, when all was noise and confusion was, �Allah only tests those that he loves.� Good is also in my friend the soon-to-be-bride who didn�t shape her eyebrows, out of conviction that it�s wrong. I meant to write a little about Ahmed Uncle�s talks and Ingrid�s lecture, but I better brush my teeth and go to sleep.   ¶ 11/27/2004 11:02:00 PM