http://www.esquire.com/blogs/culture/kareem-things-i-wish-i-knew
i agree with everything he says. just wish i could do it all too.
i agree with everything he says. just wish i could do it all too.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Stairways
I had an interesting thought today while using the stairs in my parents home to go down to the basement. Who invented them? How did they come up with the idea? Stairs are up there with the wheel in terms of simple inventions that are damn awesome. I imagined if I were going to build something to go up or down I'd make a ramp. And to save space I'd make a steep ramp. My ramp would be dangerous. But because of how dangerous it would be people would sit down and go down the ramp which would cause them to slide. And to make it more efficient I'd use polished wood and it would be fun. Except when you have to go up but for that I added a rope to the side of the ramp that you can use for support. I think this design would also be better for moving heavy furniture.
Goodnight.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
four
Four decided to sit on the floor.
One decided to read.
Another followed along,
A third listened carefully,
And the last one was the fourth.
The last one was the fourth,
but not to be outdone.
Listening carefully he wrote in his heart,
his pen strokes, his wandering mind.
He was writing a book not yet written.
He was writing a book not yet written,
But he knew how it would end.
Four old friends would sit on the floor,
One would read, two would follow,
And he would just be.
One decided to read.
Another followed along,
A third listened carefully,
And the last one was the fourth.
The last one was the fourth,
but not to be outdone.
Listening carefully he wrote in his heart,
his pen strokes, his wandering mind.
He was writing a book not yet written.
He was writing a book not yet written,
But he knew how it would end.
Four old friends would sit on the floor,
One would read, two would follow,
And he would just be.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
ive been on a streak of bad haircuts and things get urgent tonight. i probably get a haircut about once every 4-5 weeks or so. id say the last six months have been annoying since each cut has been sub par. and now im pretty sure my hair is just starting to thin...at least a little...which is not unexpected when ur 30+ but at this point i cant wait around for another crappy haircut. anyway i will try regis at the mall and time is of the essence! better be done right!
after that i can look forward to buzz cuts.
after that i can look forward to buzz cuts.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
This is my long and mostly unawaited return to my blog. Probably more because I have little to say since life takes a boring turn when you get old and work all the time. Anyway, it's interesting to return here at such an odd time of day. It's post fajr but I have so much to say.
Like many people (at least I assume many) I occasionally find myself searching for proof of God and today is one of those days that I found it. I woke up after a horribly sad dream which included my father whose brain continues to whither away slowly. It's not something you can see with your eyes but something you realize only when you interact with him. Unless you are his son. Then you feel it with your heart. In the dream I was in a room of my parent's home looking for a set of keys hidden in their living room. Suddenly, someone was walking into the room and I turned to see who it was and it was my father carrying a janamaz but crying loudly. Of course, it is surprising considering his dementia makes it difficult to express certain emotions. I ran over to him and sat him down and he started to say something about one of my uncles being sick (he didn't tell me he was sick but it was inferred by his repeating my uncles name since he cannot speak anymore). Then it hit me that he is confusing his own deterioration for something being wrong with my uncle. At that point I called over my uncle and decided to pour my heart out to my father. I wanted to explain to him what was wrong with him and how it made me feel. The moment I started, I woke up. It was the equivalent of a free fall in a dream when you are so shaken in your sleep you wake up. So here I am recounting it all. Trying to explain how it makes me feel. How my father's sick brain makes me feel. The only problem is I can never put it into words. I want to say its sadness but its more than that...it's just something I know and feel.
I started this post saying how I found proof of God. An obvious way is that Islamically we remember that we will start life as infants and end our lives in old age the same way. If you know my dad, then you know this to be true. But for me the real proof is in my heart where I feel my father's sickness. I was praying fajr but the incredible emotion that was still echoing inside me from the end of that dream was my proof. It is impossible for me to believe that so much heartache and love could simply be a natural occurrence It has to be a creation of God.
Like most people my brain tells me to do one thing and my heart another, but they seem to working together just fine right now. This morning I can feel the connection of my brain to my heart. That's probably why I'm sitting here trying to figure this out by writing. Maybe my mind is trying to soothe my heart in written words Whatever is going on I know there is an inexplicable connection between the two. This connection is also my proof.
I feel bad sometimes talking about my dad when I know so many others who have lost their mother and father in far more tragic ways and at a much younger age. Still its hard not to be selfish and feel sad....
Anyway, not only is my wife calling me back to bed but oddly enough, I feel better.
Good job brain. This time you knew exactly what to do.
Like many people (at least I assume many) I occasionally find myself searching for proof of God and today is one of those days that I found it. I woke up after a horribly sad dream which included my father whose brain continues to whither away slowly. It's not something you can see with your eyes but something you realize only when you interact with him. Unless you are his son. Then you feel it with your heart. In the dream I was in a room of my parent's home looking for a set of keys hidden in their living room. Suddenly, someone was walking into the room and I turned to see who it was and it was my father carrying a janamaz but crying loudly. Of course, it is surprising considering his dementia makes it difficult to express certain emotions. I ran over to him and sat him down and he started to say something about one of my uncles being sick (he didn't tell me he was sick but it was inferred by his repeating my uncles name since he cannot speak anymore). Then it hit me that he is confusing his own deterioration for something being wrong with my uncle. At that point I called over my uncle and decided to pour my heart out to my father. I wanted to explain to him what was wrong with him and how it made me feel. The moment I started, I woke up. It was the equivalent of a free fall in a dream when you are so shaken in your sleep you wake up. So here I am recounting it all. Trying to explain how it makes me feel. How my father's sick brain makes me feel. The only problem is I can never put it into words. I want to say its sadness but its more than that...it's just something I know and feel.
I started this post saying how I found proof of God. An obvious way is that Islamically we remember that we will start life as infants and end our lives in old age the same way. If you know my dad, then you know this to be true. But for me the real proof is in my heart where I feel my father's sickness. I was praying fajr but the incredible emotion that was still echoing inside me from the end of that dream was my proof. It is impossible for me to believe that so much heartache and love could simply be a natural occurrence It has to be a creation of God.
Like most people my brain tells me to do one thing and my heart another, but they seem to working together just fine right now. This morning I can feel the connection of my brain to my heart. That's probably why I'm sitting here trying to figure this out by writing. Maybe my mind is trying to soothe my heart in written words Whatever is going on I know there is an inexplicable connection between the two. This connection is also my proof.
I feel bad sometimes talking about my dad when I know so many others who have lost their mother and father in far more tragic ways and at a much younger age. Still its hard not to be selfish and feel sad....
Anyway, not only is my wife calling me back to bed but oddly enough, I feel better.
Good job brain. This time you knew exactly what to do.
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