Best of: Facebook updates

Since I have been having a hard time blogging and a generally easy time verbalizing my feelings on Facebook, I have decided to share some of my updates on my blog until I can cohesively write about my life in blog form.

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10/13/2015

"Me: Can't you just fly over.
Mom: I'd need to go to Netanya to get a loan to buy my tickets, since I can't do it through the bank in our town.
Me: ...
Mom: I can't go to Netanya by myself."
My heart hurts knowing that my mother, an aging Palestinian hijabi, can no longer go to the bank, get her regular doctor check-ups, book a ticket or even go grocery shopping alone in a predominantly Jewish or mixed city without worrying that a settler-colonialist might throw a knife at her side and yell "terrorist!" and have the colonizing police forces execute her at point blank.
Thank you America for your birthright trips, tax dollars and freshly minted illegal settlers and their violence.

قد ما انا إنسانه بوقفش افكر (واحكي) قد ما صعب عليي أكتب.

مش كل إشي بحياتي منطقي,

بالعكس,

حياتي عم بتكون جدا مش منطقية.

بتمنى لو إني من النوع اللي بيختار الطرق السهلة.

بس من وقت ما انخلقت وانا "صعبة"

وعم بكون كتير صعبة مع حالي وعَ حالي

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بعد 21 سنة ع هاد الكوكب إستنتجت أنه لا جدوى بإني احاول اكون شاطرة او ممتازة او متفوقة. أنا حالياً في بداية طريقي للوصول للإكتفاء الذاتي. بديش أكون فخر لحدا, بدي اكون مبسوطة.

أنا مش موجودة عشان احقق اماني هاد المجتمع الذكوري او ارضي توقعات الجهاز الرأسمالي.

أنا بنت, أنا بدي أعيش عشان نفسي, وهاد يمكن أقرب إشي ممكن أوصلّه لمانيفستو.

بعرفش من وين لازم اكمل من هون, بس بعرف وين بدي اوصل وهاد اهم إشي.

أنا طموحة جداً, حتى لو طموحي مش مفهوم للناس الي حواليي.

شكراً لإلي ع هيك قرار

nargileh high coup

where is my hookah

cuz I wanna make you moan

but my body aches.





-h.

Confession

Sometimes when I'm embarking on yet another late night adventure, in the midst of all the laughter and momentary happiness, I look at my "historical Palestine" necklace and think: "Would Leila Khaled approve of my loud unfeminine laugh? Would Suad Amiry cuss vulgarly about a person she hates in the company of "friends"? Would Suheir Hammad talk this openly about her love life in a game of Truth and Dare? Would Woroud Qassim side-eye me for wearing this mini skirt without shaving? What would any (and every) Powerful Palestinienne think about me if she met me? Are the dead female martyrs looking at me while rolling in their graves and thinking 'What happened to Palestinian womanhood'? If my mother was my contemporary and went through similar experiences, would she do anything differently?". But then I take a deep breath and remind myself: I am not a symbol or a representative of Women or Palestinians and I am definitely not a representative of both put together. I am my own self; a barely legal jumble of cyber-knowledge, street-smarts, clumsiness and naivety. I try my best to be a good Palestinian Woman. I try my best to be a good person. I try my best to be a good creature. I try my best to be good. I try my best.

I try.

And I hope the foremothers forgive me when I fuck-up.

حابب تعرف كيف طعم الخرى؟

إسأل فلسطيني

Procrastination Laughs

Basically, I should really be studying but instead I'm binging on back-to-back episodes of Community, RuPaul's Drag Race and Russell Simmons' Def Poetry Jam.

Between going to work, watching all of these, occasional reading and microblogging on tumblr I've managed to find some golden gems of music and comedy on Youtube. This is one of my latest and favorite finds: 

The high quality of my finds when I should be doing something else is truly mind-boggling!

Enjoy the laughs :) 

Huda

Letting Go

My last memory of lighting was when God got angry

And the skies opened up wide and let go of all her wrath

All was full of light and shuddering sounds

Raindrops battling the ground

Then silence…

My first memory of you was when God was overjoyed

And the skies opened up wide and let go of all the sunshine

Illuminating your face like you were the source of heat and light which feeds the earth

My heart was full of naïve glee and wonder

Butterflies in my stomach sinking deeper and deeper

My heart, going under

Then silence…

My last memory of us was when God got angry

And the skies opened up wide to shed a tear or two

I realized heartbreak was on its way

Hearing the echo of my heart's tiny pieces pouring down from their place like cruel raindrops

Released from the tight grip of my own emotions

I tried but couldn't let go…

My tears soaked me wet before the rain ever reached my umbrella

I was drenched with pain and an awful aftertaste of unattainable love

Then silence…

My last memory of me was when God forgave me

For being one of those dirty sinners

The skies opened up wide and sucked me into the clouds

And I gravitated for the first time

I let go of you on my way up

And released myself upon arrival

It has been silent ever since

No lighting or rain in my vicinity

Just silence,

Peace,

And serenity…

- Huda M