American Muslima Writer -Daring to Work Towards Jannah

For many of people out there Hajj is something they can do every year. They make their yearly plans and get on with it. For a great many others Hajj will be a real once in a lifetime opportunity. Many have to decide WHEN they will go to Hajj. Common Sense tells us that if a person wants all their sins forgiven they should wait until they are much older and have had more sins to wipe off. Others believe "No time like the present". I think the majority though do it when they can afford it. No matter what else is happening in their lives or how old they are.
I've been thinking very hard lately about when my chance will be to do Hajj. Just yesterday I was reading about it and getting misty-eyed at the thought of traveling the path that millions have trod before. The idea that I will be surrounded by millions of fellow Muslims bowing in front of the same object that our beloved Prophets have touched amazes me and fills me with a great longing to go there.
When I left Lebanon I made the intention with my husband that we would come to this new country (UAE) and try to save for Hajj. So far not even a half a dirham we've managed. But the problem with planning for Hajj is not just the money. Sure, it's a big part of it but that's not all.
Children. You can't take small children for Hajj. Perhaps you CAN but I would be deathly afraid. I've seen on TV people being trampled. Grown people with strength and height. My little toddling headstrong boy and my waif thin daughter don't stand a chance. I have to wait to do Hajj until they can physically be capable to join us. Since we are going to need a long time to save up that kind of money I was thinking, "Why not wait until they are pubescent?" Therefore when we go for our Hajj they too will have undertaken their personal obligation for Hajj. I think that's one of the best gifts a parents could give their child. Plus it would be an awesome bonding experience for a family to do together.
My sister-in-law H (the older one) left her sufficiently older kids with Tayta (her mother) when she went for Hajj. This too can be a good thing if you have someone reliable to watch your children for almost two weeks and if your children are of an age where they can stand to be away from you for so long. My two would go absolutely crazy without me there. The longest I've been away from my daughter is overnight when having my son and she was with her Father and Grandmother so not so difficult for her. And I've never been away from my son for longer than an hour, you know like once every two months. So for me I have no one here in UAE that can watch my kids for two weeks. Plus my children are the most important people in my life and why would I leave them out of the most important experience in my life? The things they could learn from Hajj are just as important as the things I could. And they could learn it at an earlier age .
Some selfish parents (I think) will leave their young babies (some of them still nursing!) with relatives to go for Hajj when they could easily wait a few years more until their children are more mature to understand the slight abandonment. I don't understand these parent's mentality at all. How could you circumbate the Kabbah knowing your darling baby is in tears wondering where it's Mommy/Daddy has run off to.


So for now I'm thinking to keep trying to save up for Hajj for when my kids are like 15/16 years old (unless in the future Allah Wills for me to have more younger children then I'll have to postpone until THEY are older). I think that age would be perfect to understanding and taking on the challenges of Hajj. And again it would cover their accountability of completing a pillar of Islam.
So when are you planning to go for Hajj? Do your children factor into When you will go?

This is an odd post for sure but it's such an odd feeling to be captivated by a meer commercial. I'm talking about the commercial 1 Million by Paco Rabanne. It's a cologne for men. Being the person I am I notice the beautiful details in life and when something beautiful captures my eye it really stick with me.
I was watching ArabSat Channel MBC2 which plays US Movies interrupted by frequent short commercials. This commercial came on with such brilliant advertisement that it stuck with me and the fact that they played it twice with each commercial set surely helped it stick in my mind. here is the Video. I felt that to get this out of my system I needed to analyse why it's so powerfully attractive. As the Author of Romance Novels I wanted to understand how powerful images pull people's emotions. So I'm going to analyze each scene.


1 Million by Paco Rabanne -Click the link if for some reason I can't figure out how to load a video to watch the commerical.
Here is an intersting insight to the smell

(Scenes marked with *** were deleted from Arab viewing as censorship of unislamic things. So these scenes weren't part of what pulled me but I will analyze them since they are in the Internet video)


Scene 1: *** Intro: Music Start up, The music is a catchy sound to begin with with lots of abrupt pauses which are filled by the sound of a snap. We see a man enter the view. Let's talk about this man. This is male model Mat Gordon. His hair is rakishly combed forward and a bit to the side with uneven fringe. Showing youth, style, most important though covering the majority of his eyes and casting his other eye partly in shadow through most of the film. This is important because we are not clearly seeing HIM but what he represents. Thus his high cheekbones and long straight nose are highlighted. His chin stays carefully tucked down throughout the commercial focusing us on his body not on his face. His hair far is more noticeable than his features. His black well fitted expensive suit is highlighted by the slightly upturned white collar unbuttoned to mid chest. The upstanding collar also adds an air of rakishness to balance the triangle of his hair going the opposite direction. The light flashes on and off giving action for the eye to follow.
Scene 2: *** He snaps with a strong gracefully long fingered hand with a large power ring on the middle finger. Notice the form of the hand as it snaps. It is upright with the flick going backwards, thumb ending up, not dropping to the side as most people do when they snap. It's a snap of obedience. It's calling something. The something arrives promptly in the form of dice dropping. Music starts more rapidly.
Scene 3: (this is where the commercial intro-ed on MBC2) He is profiled in shadow from waist up as he snaps and end it this time in a pointing of his finger. Thumb is still up in the form of power. We sense the power of his body in this shot. The angle of his shoulders straight yet commanding yet his chin still tucked. The snap brings us to the next object a beautiful and expensive car (I don't know the model I'm not a car person really but perhaps Porche). The front beams turn on at his snap.
Scene 4: Now we've seen how powerful his snap is they focus back on him. His body: The chin finally tilts up showing his face more clearly. The chin raising shows a sense of arrogance along with wealth. He KNOWS he's wealthy and powerful and he likes it. His hair is swept back a little showing more clearly his eyes. The music pops out with an Oo! To punctuate the snaps.
Scene 5: *** His body all the way down to the accented hipbones fully bare chested accented by the white upturned collar shirt and black suit, two female arms grab him forcefully in a way that ripples the white shirt attractively.
Scene 6: Shows him having fun now with his power, dancing to his snap and throwing his shoulder in what I call a Power Snap. Try it yourself it feels powerful. A double snap brings a falling bag loaded with cold hard cash spilling out all over the smooth floor.
Scene 7: He licks his finger before the snap then *** flips his shirt open showing a flash of skin along his hipbone (well know female favorite view) and *** a drop of ice into most likely liquor.
Scene 8: Flipping the collar smartly of his overcoat up in the dark then standing in shadow in front of a casino. A double snap turns on the lights.
Scene 8+: *** Large pile of gambling chips stacked neatly while one chip clinks against the counter.
Scene 9: He's sitting laid back against an opulent leather chair with inlaid studs. His shirt is laid open to mid chest with that irresistible collar peaking up again. This Snap is different. It's forward directly facing his knuckles which is an unnatural movement thus making it more noticeable. Try it yourself it feels odd. The roulette wheel spins and the ball lands on the marker that presumably he wants it to land on.
Scene 10: Music speeds up after the gambling flashes and shows him really into his power now flinging his croppy hair sideways with the thrust of his Power Snap. His white shirt still the attracting factor with the flipped collar and half chest view.
Scene 11: Another close up view of the hand snapping. His face in dark then suddenly orange glow lights it from the side shadowing his eye still with the rakish hair. Orange/Gold fireworks blast in rapid succession (just for him ;) )
Scene 12: The light plays over the Gold Cologne Bottle showing "1 Million" in Old Fashioned Elegant Scroll as the Music slows down to let you take notice of the brand name.
Scene 13: Photographers (paparazzi) armed with lights and cameras vie for pictures flashing madly as the Music upbeats with chorus' of Oo! Oo! to punctuate the camera "snaps". He dances his head back and forth keeping his powerful chin in line. Accent on the collar and hair flips. Clearer view of his face. Notice he's wearing a vest now instead of a jacket over the white shirt. This adds definition to the side to side movement allowing you to see the flips of his shoulders more clearly.
Scene 14: A large old fashioned light glares brightly followed by a power snap and point as he snaps and dances and shows off his body's power.
Scene 15: He throws a side snap (which is my second favorite snap in the commercial) and that expensive powerful car spins it's wheels in the gravel as it races off showing the gleaming hubcaps and fender.
Scene 16: (My favorite snap) Hand in pocket to show relaxed power as a full body shot as he throws the Power Snap with hand remaining at head level. A woman takes notices of the snap and the allure of the power behind it (didn't we all) and turns wide eyed. Her long wavy blonde hair against black classy dressed shows she's one not normally easily impressed.
Scene 17: He has so much power in his snap he can even do it behind his back.
Scene 17+: ***The back of the woman's legs are shown from thigh to the floor (a classic male loved view of legs) and her skirt drops swiftly to the floor. Which shows in a subtle way that he can bed any woman. *Shown: Her glossy lips part slightly.
Scene18: Last snap, dark shadows again featuring the classic look of him throughout the commercial, hair still raked, collar still peeping up.
Scene 19: last scene showing the cologne glowing gold again against a black background and Narrator says: "1 Million, the new fragrance for men by Paco Rabanne" as Paco's name glints in gold.


My take on this the first time I saw it was: it caught my eye when most commercials don't. Obviously it was about a man who has money and power and gets whatever he wants with the snap of his fingers. It's about class. Make that Class with a capital C. And Class is always appealing even when there are single images we don't like. I for one did NOT like them portraying him snapping and the woman turns (though again didn't we female all turn). We women are not dogs to be called by the snap of our "masters". The idea he can snap his fingers and her skirt drops is revolting. The alcohol and gambling parts of course I don't like and I was happy that they were edited out when aired here. After watching and being drawn to it I felt the pull to buy it. More importantly I knew men were going to feel the pull to buy it. For men especially Gulf Arabs who many (not all) already think they can get what they want with a snap will find this video extremely appealing especially (thankfully unshown here) where her skirt drops. So on the whole I applaud Paco Rabanne for a well made commercial that for once worked on me. Yet I gotta say again Paco shame on you, we aren't dogs. We feel the pull of a powerful man yes but if you think I'm gonna drop my skirt at the snap of a man's hand you have got your jeans snapped a little tight.

My highschool friend Jen had this posted on her blog and I HAD to borrow it from her.

JUST A MOM? ..
A woman, renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk 's office, was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation.
She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself.
"What I mean is, " explained the recorder, "do you have a job or are you just a ..?"
"Of course I have a job," snapped the woman. "I'm a Mom."
"We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation, 'housewife' covers it," Said the recorder emphatically.
I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall.
The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar."
"What is your occupation?" she probed.
What made me say it? I do not know.
The words simply popped out.
"I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations."
The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in m midair and looked up as though she had not heard right.
I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written, in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.
"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest,"just what you do in your field?"
Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply,
"I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn't)
In the laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and out).
I'm working for my Masters, (first the Lord and then the whole family)
and already have four credits (all daughters).
Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?)
and I often work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it).
But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money."
There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.
As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3.
Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just another Mom."
Motherhood!
What a glorious career!
Especially when there's a title on the door.
..Does this make grandmothers "Senior Research associates in the field of Child Development and Human Relations"
And great grandmothers "Executive Senior Research Associates?"
I think so!!!
___________________________________________

This made me laugh so much. I can't tell you how many times you get asked out here what is your job. Other women ask it especially at meetings. "So what's your job? I mean do you have a job?" They say. I posted already my dislike for the term "housewife". Now when asked I say Writer but this one above just might work too ;) If only I can remember the long explanation and memeorize it in Arabic so they don't turn to my husband and ask him "Shoo shouglak martak?" And he will reply "Housewife!"

I call myself a Writer. Yet I have not yet told how this came to be.

Perhaps we should first look at my childhood. Since I was young I was good at telling stories. My biological mother always would say "Brandy tell me a story." Later as I grew up to around 6 or 7 I saw many Shrinks and Social Workers and I was always Narrating my past so they could analyze me. In Kindergarten I was just learning to read things and in the foster home that taught me to read one of the younger boys made fun of me that he could read before me. This fulled my rage to be better than him and so I read like crazy. In 1st grade I was reading so well that they moved me up to the 3rd grade reading hour (where I'd go to 3rd grade just to read books with them for an hour). In the 3rd grade class I had so much fun and I felt so special being advanced. Also the smartest boy in that class was tripping over a new "hard word LIGHTENING" and I was so tempted to say it out loud to help him but I held my tongue wiggling in my chair saying it over and over in my head. Finally the teacher corrected him and moved on and I never had the chance to show my brilliancy. I was disappointed but still elated I knew more than the smartest boy of 3rd grade. Once I started living with my father and my new mom they encouraged me all the time to read and I did voraciously. All my tests showed I had advanced reading and comprehension skills many grade levels higher than I was in, consistently through the years. I used to spend summers reading book after book eating ice pops curled up with my cat. Also playing pretend with my childhood best friend all the way until the middle of high school led me to enjoy the world of imagination.

In school plays, because of my advanced reading levels, I always got the part of the Narrator because I could easily read quickly and memorize the many lines. It was my inner joy that I was still "the best" at reading. My 5th grade teacher, the wonderful Mr. Vasquez, used to read to us out loud in class and it would send me into the enchantment of books to the point I'd wait eagerly for the reading hour and when it ended I wished I could take his book and finish it off myself. I also by this time had made a few simple poetry books and the teachers had applauded them thoroughly.

Middle School taught me further the power of words and writing. One of the teachers read the first book of Narnia out loud. Another book he read out loud enchanted me to the point where when reading of drunkenness you could almost feel yourself sloshing sideways out the door to the next class. Words held power. I was still writing poetry here and there and practicing my use of imagery with just the right word well placed. In 8th grade our teacher gave us an assignment to write an actual long story. My mind was racing! Oh the plots to make! It was fabulous fun. I wrote a Science Fiction booked called "Journey to Pluto". Basing the characters mostly off of my real life friends. A Book I'm still polishing to publish to this day (it's there in a file!) But I made a short version and gave it to the teacher and she liked it very much.

More importantly though my parents showed it to my Aunt who is into writing and publishing and I had no idea we had so much in common. As we edited the story to make it longer I fell in love with the writing process. I was having fun with this. Also I continued to write poetry to the point when we'd eat out with my grandparents nightly I'd write out a new poem on the napkins and spend the evening trying to find that perfect word and driving my whole family insane trying to capture a feeling with only one word. Eventually my parents gave up and bought me a thesaurus.

Sadly shortly there-after my paternal Grandmother's health was quickly deteriorating. She was placed on Hospice Program and I read literature and pamphlets on how to deal with death. One pamphlet said to let the person know you love them. So one night I went to my grandmother's room and held her sleeping hand while Beethoven's Fur Elise played in the background and finally she woke and I told her how much I loved her and she assured me how much she loved me. That night I was feeling so emotional about it all I wrote the entire experience down and sent it to my mom through the post office since at that time I didn't feel comfortable enough to hand it to her. She saved that letter unbeknown to me at the time.

Later, when my Grandmother died, at her funeral everyone told special things about her. I was too shy to stand up in front of everyone though I had so much to say. My mom though stood and read my letter out loud to everyone. I felt better. As we were walking to leave the cemetery my Dad's Step-sister told me she loved my letter. His other Step-sister came up then too and said "Wow that was powerful. You know you should be a writer!" I was really stunned by the compliments. I know it was heartfelt but 'powerful!?' Me? A writer? Could I be? Am I? Is this where I belong? Is this what I can become? More family members complimented me and a dayIi expected to be so sad turned into something amazing. The beginning of my dream to become a writer. From that moment on I was insatiable in my quest to read more challenging books and each summer I took a classic author in Science Fiction and read all their books. One summer Alan Dean Foster, Andre Norton, Anne McCaffrey, the entire Star Wars novels series. I also inherited my grandmother's Romance Novels and there were hundreds.

I couldn't get enough of reading. It's all I wanted to do. I let homework and school slack as I finished that last page of a great novel. I lived my life in imaginations and fantasy. While I moved around in the physical world my mind was always dual mode in an imagination. I was the Queen of Europe gliding gracefully toward the evening supper and later the grand ball as in real life I went to my next class and to the cafeteria. People around me were just extras on my personal set. Instead of doing homework at night I'd spend hours and hours acting out my personal imaginations when I wasn't in a book, like being a famous "Riverdancer" as I danced to my Celtic Music in circles in my room. Being an only child ensured I wasn't interrupted or bothered.

But the best of all during these High School Years was writing novels. Instead of listening to a history lesson I'd be writing the 7th Chapter to my latest novel. Two weeks later I'd have a new idea and relate to my friends the new plot. Sometimes during lunch I'd get them to chime in on plot ideas. My closest friends can attest to my obsession. Sure I flunked a few classes but it was worth it at the time to finish that part of the book. Plus there was always Summer School. By the time I finished 12th grade I had 20 yes TWENTY unfinished books in various stages of completion. Yes I am a procrastinator with Attention Deficit Disorder. But I'm a writer!

So as I met my future husband and had to deal with a suddenly difficult life. My solace was writing and reading. I read so many books while unemployed that I could predict (correctly) the entire plot by the end of the first chapter. It got so bad I lost the interest to read and write anymore. I couldn't enjoy the books when I could predict it all. Just then luckily I was too busy working at the movie theater to worry about time to read. But for me Movies are like Books with free pictures. I even used to ditch school on Fridays to catch the latest Picture Book ;) that was released. I never stopped having my dual reality of imaginations during real life but it got harder and harder to find the right plots to match my life. I made a rule though that no matter how difficult Praying 5 times a day got for me I'd never "pretend" to Pray or be a Muslim Character. Islam is always been the one thing I don't use in imagining. Because Allah is real and Islam is not something to play with.

After I got married and moved to Lebanon I spent much of my time cooped up with myself as is my habit and made more imaginings and I had suddenly a lot of free time to write but social obligations to hang out with the family caused me strife with time management. Until my younger sister in law H, showed an interest in my stories and in making her own poems and story ideas. Such a special bond we share. She was my happiness in those early days when few spoke English and understood my aloofness. Now I'm able to share books and stories with her easily and she's my sounding board for everything I write. When I had the idea to write with Arab characters for the first time she was right there helping me with names and themes. To her I owe much. While pregnant with my daughter I had ages of free time to write and finally I finished my rough draft to my book I'd been working on since high school. I finally got to write "THE END". It's been 4.6 years since I wrote THE END and still haven't had time to finish typing it into the computer and getting it polished to send off and of course it's a Romance Novel so it's unIslamic and I have that whole debate still going in my head of if I morally SHOULD send it off...

Now I have over 50 books in various stages of writing (one completed!) about 12 of those Islamic, and I've made my dream to be a Writer. This was how I got to this point of finally opening a blog to find people "just like me". Muslims who Dream to Write.

Ah the weekend! A time to relax! A time to work on the home to-do list! A time to hurry up because according to some country's schedules you might only get one day!

The weekends on Saturday and Sunday were my favorite days of the week because I'd get to hang out with family or friends and usually visit my grandparents and go out for dinner. It was fabulous being able to stay up later on Friday night and again on Saturday night since you could sleep in the next morning. The dreaded early to bed Sunday though was disappointing for me. I'd wait impatiently all week for beautiful Friday to come. Friday's are always exciting. The last day you have to take everyone's crap in school or at work or anywhere. The day before you get a break was just as fun as the days where you were on your break. Plans were quickly made about the evening's activities.

Later after school finished my weekends were spent visiting my fiance and then later looking for jobs. An interesting thing happened though to ease my transition of what i viewed as weekends. I got a job at a movie theater and their busiest times were the weekends so weekends meant more work (longer hours) and weekdays meant I could relax more. My day off was usually a Tuesday or Wednesday. And I only got one day off (gotta keep hours up to pay rent).

Soon thereafter I was able to finally go to Lebanon where I had to get used to a whole new schedule. The Lebanese tend to retreat from the humidity of Beirut to their cool mountains for the summer months. I had just gotten there at the beginning of July so I figured we had only one month in the mountains until my younger sis in law's school started. I got way thrown off because their schools don't start until the middle of September. It felt like a super long summer vacation. Once we were living back in Beirut I had to get used to another change of schedule. On Fridays and Sundays were weekends. That means on Friday everyone gets off and closes for Jummah Prayer then most businesses open again but schools stay closed. Then Saturday everyone has to go back to their places of tedium until Sunday when they get another day off. Most Fridays were spent around town while saving Sundays for family get together and visiting out of town.
Next came U.A.E. where depending on the company and city is a different weekend schedule. Pretty much EVERYONE gets Friday off here for prayers. Friday (Jummah) being the Muslims' weekly holiday. Much like Sunday's Church day or Saturday's Sabbath day. Then depending on individual work places and ratio of christian workers, many places give Thursday, Saturday, or Sunday off in conjunction to Friday.
Schools get Fri, Sat off though. So for me when Sunday rolls around I still feel like it's a weekend though its a workday. And come Thursday I suddenly get excited that it's "Friday night" and tomorrow there is no work. But for me personally I only get a one day weekend though all in total it feels like a four day weekend sometimes. But going out means really crowded places since many people only get one day like me.
So what's your weekend like?