Harem

What a long day it has been. Awoken up, unable to go back to sleep, with my sleep lost the only thing to do is to write.

As if our family was not enough for us, we now have a bomb that's waiting to explode on our lap. I can just hear it's non-existent tick-tocking as cords grow tense and people desperate. The truth is i don't know this girl. I've never seen her before until recently. Here she is, living in my grandparents home and police is involved, with a mixture of lies, conceit, deceit and a lot of role playing--not the sexy kind.

To be blunt and rather crude, I do not believe that she is as innocent as she claims. Why? She talks way too much about the issue, revealing so many personal details with so many new information being excavated each time. It makes you wonder. I believe without a doubt that he mentally, emotionally and physically has abused her. Without a doubt, I believe in her parents-in-law along with brother and sister-in-law interfering with their marriage, home and personal lives. Do I believe non of it ever was not instigated? Still, though that's not a reason to be abusive. There is never any excuse to be abusive towards anyone. Do I believe she is guiltless, faultless and innocent as the color white and star lilies? No, absolutely not. I think she probably has her own problems to sort out through and has probably inflicted her own version of abuse on her husband.

It comes down to making sure that a girl at the age of 24 is not left to fend for herself in the middle of the street after literally being kicked off from her own and only home, with her rights and person-hood violated. Of course, after being called my mom was not going to let her stay by herself to take care of her own problems when she can't even speak two words of English. That's just mean and inhuman. I do think she is trying to take advantage of us, of the situation and pretty much anyone she has come across in Rochester.

What does this mean for me? It means that my day has become unproductive when it could have been one of the most productive days of my week. I could have finished my book, I could have gone through my daily schedules and well...not be involved in this whole thing. Would I have lost anything...absolutely not. Did I gain anything...other than the confirmation of my hypothesis on Turkish Marriages...nada. My convictions was something I had already come to firmly believe. One more or one less failed marriage was not going to make me sway one way or the other. My list left unfinished, worked was absolutely horrific. It was busy and well, when the people you work with don't tip you your more than well deserved 10 percent and the owner's son who forgoes giving any...when it's his ass I have to clean up after the most--is more than a little unnerving. After coming home for literally less than 5 minutes, going back out to pick up my brother was the last drop.

On the bright side, I got a wonderful letter today that made me smile wide from one ear to the other. I must have reread it about a dozen times by now.

Sleep, where are you???

Daft Stillness

I want quiet when I come home. It's selfish, it's filled with my own interests, desires and yearnings. It shows an attitude for not caring, being a solitary, recluse soul that happens to be a big jerk that just can't deal with others' problems at the end of the day. I am exactly that, I realize that and I have no problem admitting to it. While I am aware most people think this is a bad trait, I disagree. It keeps me happy, it keeps me writing, functioning and well, allows me to be not so bitchy the next day.

My days tend to be packed, at least I try to make them as packed as I possibly can. I tend to work into the nights and when I come home, I am tired, drained and well just looking forward to be by myself, unwind and come to terms with the thoughts inside of my own head over a hot cup of tea, the moon veiling the dust on my panel as it seeps in through my smudged plastic glass in broken silver rays.

I don't want to hear how bad work was, I don't want to hear the misfortunes that riddled their day. I care, but just not in that moment as the day is pretty much shaving years off my day, hours from my sleep, increasing wrinkles on my face. I'd rather hear about it tomorrow where I've had my rest and where I can actually tackle and help assist them in their problem of venting...actually caring enough to really, attentively listen. I can't fix everyone's problems, but I can listen to them with my being, somethings that's all anyone looks for and sometimes both parties has to acknowledge that it just has to be enough. At the end that's all I can do. But I can't do that if my head is swimming in fog, trying to discern and discover mysteries and revelations in my own day. If I am searching for the blessings I should be counting additionally, I don't have the energy nor the room to point out yours in all of your negative ranting.

I want to come home to a perfectly still, absolutely, deafeningly quiet, daft home where it's just my place, waiting for me and me alone. I want to put my keys exactly where I've always put them for the past two and a half years, take off my shoes exactly where I've always took them off and put them in my new, white shoe cabinet, hang my purse in my black new key mirror, turn on the stove of my hot water kettle, pull down the blinds, turn on my not so new lap top and then, without leaving a trail of clothes on my tiny apartment's, carpeted floor, take one article of clothing at a time and jump into a shower that's hot, steamy, smells of lilacs and jasmines. I want to wrap myself in my soft and very bright red towels, dry myself off as I decide on what to watch, put on lotion, put on new soft comfortable pyjamas and a new coat of my latest favorite nail polish color, sit on that green couch with my legs on it and jump into bliss.

I need the world to stop when I come home, feeling safely cocooned, away from the threatening dangers of the outside world that any other time of my life, I seek to go out and experience. I need the silent so that I can think, so that my brain can finally digest what the hell has happened, catch my breath and well, make sure I don't get lost in the daily and not so very large picture of the universe and big-scheme of things.

I like being alone, by myself left to share my own pity, sadness, happiness, crazed delights by myself at the end of the night as life unravels for me in quite ways that it never does when i am around others. There is a comfort to knowing fixed certainties at your apartment. It's like Hemingway's "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place" where the cafes allows the old man and the old waiter to anchor and create some sort of meaning in their lives reducing the burden of despair momentarily...

In Anticipation of Ramadan

So, in the Islamic world, Ramadan is both awaited with anticipation and with dread at the same time. People would tell you this honestly if they didn't fear going to hell. Ramadan, or Ramazan as we Turkish folk call it, is the crowning month of the year, much like Christmas of Christians. The problem is that the Islamic calendar is lunar based therefore every year Ramadan arrives ten days early which constitutes a real problem every year. The sighting of the new moon to the naked eye, which always creates problems within the Islamic community of different sects and denominations.

So, what is Ramadan and why do we observe it? There are 11 months in the Islamic calendar, it is the 9th month and the holiest of all months, especially for Sunnis. Ramadan is so important because it's when God spoke to Hz. Mohammed through angel Gabriel, revealing the verses of Qur'an, what Islam was, it's rituals and understandings.

Why is it so significant to the Islamic community across the globe? It's the beginning of Islam and when Prophet Mohammed was revealed to be a prophet. Big news for those who believe in the faith. Fasting during Ramadan is also one of the five pillars of Islam.

How do we observe Ramadan? One has to wake up before sunrise, eat and drink to your heart's content and start your fast. You're supposed to go through your daily life without drinking, eating, smoking and refraining from violence, ill manners, bad behavior and any sexual activities along with drugs and alcohol. Mmm...wine...that's going to be hard. It's to give total commitment and devotion to Allah (God). It's a time for reflection and discipline the soul and morally retract and think about one's actions, one's values and the state of his heart. One's meant to cleanse his or her soul, purifying one's thoughts. It's also customary to reconcile at this time and do good deeds like volunteering, giving money away to the needy and clothes to those who are less fortunate than you are. At sunset, you gather around with your dinner table and wait for the night prayers to be said at which you break your fast with water and dates. Then you are free to eat your stomach's content, however no alcohol at any point.

People await Ramadan with anticipation because it brings families, friends, neighbors and communities together, it forces people to work together, acknowledge others, look at the universe from a bigger picture, realize the problems of others. The chance to be forgiven for your sins, a symbolic at the very least to be given the opportunity to morally and ethically think about your actions, reassess your value system and even for a short time, trying to be a better person. The end is celebrated with El-Fitr for three days with so many home cooking, desserts and home visits that it is always a thrill. However, fasting during the heat of the summer, with no water of any kind or food in your stomach at all is something we all dread.

Something to Say

Everyone has something to say, some a lot more than others, some with a lot more thought, consideration and contemplation behind her or his words than the rest. I like writing daily, it keeps things in order and in check and constantly grows my mind inwards to probe deeper and deeper and see the affects of the outside world on my inner world--daily. I realize this sounds repetitious. But there is nothing in the world that makes me happier than being close and entangled with words. They're just words, I realize. But constantly, they're the only one thing that can soothe me, conquer my mind, turn my world upside down or create order and stability, depending on my word choice of the circumstance.

Writing everyday though, is a good exercise for someone who is an aspiring writing, for far into the future. It's also a very challenging and a difficult task. Sometimes it's hard to find something to write about for pages and pages long, sometimes it's hard to make it sound interesting or well, care enough to write about it, worst yet, wonder why the hell would anyone else care about it enough to read it? Sometimes we're just completed after a big awakening and a realization that wipes us and requiring time for issues to surface from their hidden wells deep within our souls. Sometimes, time is of essence and you have to decide between food and writing, sleep and writing or among other various things that daily life requires. You just don't have the time to write sometimes. Making the daily effort and constantly creating the time to write is tiring and sometimes feels like, it might not be worth it, and could be put off to another day.

On the advantageous side the closer affinity you are in with words, the better your usage, syntax, style develops and the better your writing habits become. It takes a long time to develop a style, and for the majority unlucky of us, we have to take the time to develop it, sometimes making the conscious effort after pages and pages of editing for our mediocre work picking on the good vibes and things that has work consistently and then develop them to create our own styles. Daily writing helps with all of this. I guess this is the most important reason I write in this blog. It keeps a visual chart of my daily writing progress. Since I have always been very private about my writing and blogging has helped me at least on certain days and certain issues to be public or come out with my writing on a certain level.

Drunken Madness

I tend to pride myself with my philosophy on drinking and my drinking habits, meaning the way I handle my liquor. Well, there is a down to every up, if anything life has reinforced that into me so well. I was expecting this to be honest, to happen sometime before I hit my thirties, and it happened instead when I was 24, for the first time in my life.

I got drunk last Sunday when I went out for drinks with a good friend of mine. One thing led to another, although I am unsure for the cause of the reason, maybe because I did not eat enough, or did not have enough water periodically that led to my drunken frenzy. Although I can't technically call it a frenzy, since all I did was vomit and lay on the couch, freezing, trying to warm up. I barely spoke or anything of the sort.

But it made me think, before I judged people who got drunk on a regular basis without ever being drunk myself. Today, I can speak from experience. I do not understand why people go out to get drunk every weekend. It's not a good feeling. I definitely didn't like puking, or being light headed and dizzy. Not my cup of tea. I can't understand what could make them feel good enough to want to get drunk over and over again. It's idiotic. I love alcohol, but I have no desire to get drunk anytime soon--if possible ever again in my life. It seems like such a poor decision making skill. Even today, when I think about alcohol and how it made me feel, I feel queasy even without a drop of alcohol.

So here it is, people who constantly go out to drink, and for them the definition of drinking being getting pissed drunk ... have issues they are trying to overcompensate with weak wills and cowardly because they can't face on their difficulties, and people who like to feel sorry for themselves. People who constantly do this to themselves, knowingly and intentionally are masochists. Period. There is no understanding around it, unless you have an addiction, which is entirely different. That aside, people who live like this, making this apart of their life styles...have a lot of growing up and maturing to do.

Working at Sinbad's.

Sinbad's is a difficult place to explain--you can only live Sinbad's. It's larger than most restaurants on Park Ave with a large lawn tables that are perfect in Summer (unless it's 97F and with a humidity of 60% then people want to sit inside where it's air conditioned) waiting up to 45 minutes to be seated.

It's always been cheap, our most expensive plate is $12.95, everything is freshly made to order, everything is prepped the day of, with fresh indigents. The turn over isn't that high. Yes, they hire seasonal workers and some servers and or hosts or hostesses can't cling on. They can't get used to the pace, process, order and the owners. Sinbad's is a sit-in restaurant where the owners sit around all day observing everyone at their work and mingling with the customers to make sure things are getting along just smoothly without any difficulties, however we're only one step up from a diner. People are nice, but can be backstabbing. The owners look out for the people who work really hard, but once you raise the standards for them, and that's what they will expect for your remaining days.

Despite all that, I love working at Sinbad's. It's both physically and mentally challenging. It's mentally challenging not because I am thinking about the black mysteries of universe, or solving very complex calculus III problems. But you have to be up beat, witty, on the look out, aware and know what is going on not only on your tables but also others'.

At the end, I know that I'll always have a home here, a place to work whenever I need it :)

My Parents

To me, my parents are the greatest people on earth. They're different as night and day from each other, they were never in love with one another perhaps, but they've toiled through some of the most difficulties in life that would have broken even the most passionate loving marriages. Yet, here they are, perhaps each unsatisfied and unhappy in their marriage separately and yet again they're still together, toiling through one more obstacle in life that fate seems to endlessly throw at them.

Both of my parents got married rather early in their life via parent-arrangement. When one thinks of my mom, no one could imagine my father to be her husband, standing next to her crudely in his smaller frame. He doesn't fill the space next to her, he doesn't fill her heart; I fear her heart has been empty romantically for over a decade now. It's quite shocking to see that somehow though they have been making this marriage work, perhaps not in any of the conventional ways people speak and write about. I don't know what's more tragic though: her heart being empty or that they are making this loveless marriage work.

Regardless my parents have always been hard workers, always ended u with the short end of the stick and remained moral people with pure and loving hearts. They have, no matter how difficult their situation has been always done the right things and did them the right ways. They're still caring even after being short-changed by pretty much everyone. They have never stopped caring for their close friends and family, and they have never denied a shelter and food for anyone who needed a refuge and sanctuary, even when they had non to spare. They've always been generous and open handed, that's one personality trait I admire endlessly and at the same time get upset over. However, I am my parents' daughter and I know I will end up in one way or another like them, eventually. Life's waves will carry me there, that is without a doubt.

Through my parents, I've learned so many valuable and limitless lessons that I could have never been able to learn through two lifetimes by myself. They're eternally flawed like any human being inhabiting this planet. There are certain things I wish I could change about my parents. My father is really rough around the edges, my mother is too forgiving and too fragile, even after all these hardening experiences that would have turned any one else on this earth to a stone cold stoic. That's something to admire in a human being, one way I am not like my mother at all.

I am fiercely loyal and protective of my parents. I see things they overlook in people, well you see, I am much more corrupt than they could ever be. There is very little I wouldn't do in order to protect them. And here I am, I have to protect both of them, from others, from each other, from the world, other wise, it just may be the end of us as a family, and not just parents, siblings, but extending all the way back to our roots. So, why am I rambling about this here on this blog? I haven't the slightest clue at all. But I wanted to talk about my parents in a way I hadn't before so that someone in particular in my mind could read about them and maybe understand the relationship my parents and I have together and the relationship you and I have together?

Time

Time is a funny thing, or rather a mystical thing. Yes, I know there are twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, thirty days a month, twelve months a year and so on and so forth. I realize that there are 60 seconds a minute and sixty minutes an hour. But it doesn't always go as smoothly as science makes it. Sometimes minutes goes by slow, they appear to stretch forever as strips of memories just plays as a movie, over and over again. Then again, moments stretch out far into the future, showing a movie of things to come, restricted as far as our imagination can lead us. Time has the mystical powers to heal, regenerate as it has the potent power to destroy and turn a person or a thing into a desolate, decayed skeleton, abandoned to be buried and forgotten.

Today was awkward, left in a dilemma that's just difficult to solve, no matter how many minutes passed by, how busy I was, time did not move--at all today. Time stood still and no matter how I turned the issue up and down, this side or the other, I came to no conclusion at all...to wait and see things out. Repeating past mistakes is not something I am fond of, but...I don't know if this is the same. This is my biggest problem, when I am like this, I make no decisions on it and leave it to God to see how it plays out. Sometimes it plays out in my favor and probably more often times it does not. But acting without coming to a decision just feels like even a more stupider thing to do. The answer is perhaps somewhere deep down, maybe I even know it already, but I choose to ignore and be blind to it, throwing everything else to oblivion, perhaps a future, perhaps a heart, perhaps a being. Maybe I am just too afraid to act one way or the other, but I have a problem of letting go too. The devil you know over the devil you don't know--I am just not sure how healthy that is though. I like having the possibility of a full bright future, a blank page as you will, unwritten waiting to be lived so it can be written in, with characters, emotions and plots.

Working today, it reminded me of the times I originally worked at Sinbad's. It felt like no time had changed at all. I was still twenty or twenty one and working my ass off, hoping to get out of here and make something of myself, get myself a better life, better future, better career and the things my parents always wanted to give me, but could not, the things I had to work myself to provide for myself. It feels like I am back to where I begun, I've come a full circle, I am just not sure how far I have traveled; perhaps millions of miles, perhaps only a few yards. I guess the upcoming year will decide that.

--My heart has sunk.

somtimes I am not that creative.

I had so much to say yesterday night, but then I got tired, fell asleep and unintentionally put it off and now I can't quite recall what it is that I wanted to say in the first place. Maybe, it wasn't that important to begin with, but I am quite confident that it would have made me feel good to get it off my chest.

Being back home is an awkward experience sometimes. People want to make you happy, they want to show that they're appreciative that you're around, taking the time coming and seeing them, they want to show you that you're special, but alas, they have to move on with the demands of their daily lives. It gets awkward, especially if you're staying over an extended period.

There is a pit in my stomach...sometimes I am not so sure of certain things...It's scaring me.

Work Horse?

While I can love taking my time in doing things and getting ready, enjoying a summer vacation as much as the next person, I do love working. I love having my schedule busy, running from one place to the next, trying to fit everything in to the weekdays and having many tasks to complete on my to do list. I enjoy all of this and yes, you can even say I am at half way to self torturing.

Working keeps you busy, it keeps your mind working, and puts and sustains your body in motion and soul stirring about. Things leave an impression on you, working gives you the chance for your soul to be imprinted on, to be impressed and to grow. Working keeps you connected and within society of humanity and in your own geographical, socioeconomic community (of sorts). While working, you might not get the chance to contemplate on the meaning of life, you might not have to think about ethical issues, thee conjecture of life on this planet, the progress of technology or the advancement of medicine. Heck, you might even get the chance to glance at your own day, let alone past or future. Work does get hectic, with many things to do on your list, emails to write, phone calls to make, things to think about that pertains to work. h

However, work gives you the foundation to think about the meaning of life through your experiences within your daily life. The accumulation of your daily lives over periods of times, the phases and chapters of your one individual life and the side knowledge one compiles, connecting the dots, seeing patterns becomes easier and if you're willing to see and deal with consequences certain truths of universe definitely will unveil in the language you can understand and the meaning you can interpret. Because your brain is working, it becomes easier for these patterns to become available to you, because unintentionally you'll become on the lookout. That's just how work is. It gives you the foundation of you as an individual and gives you the window want to look from, judge, assess and becomes the platform decide your life decisions eventually.

The most insight a writer could have to other characters is to mingle among them and see them in action so to speak. Imagination is a great resource, obviously no matter what kind of a fiction writer is, s/he will always employ her or his imagination to their work. That's why work is important, you get to meet so many people and can have a lot of different inspirations for one particular character which makes it come alive, rather than just plainly written on a page. That's one of the reasons I love working.

Also, when I don't work, it makes me feel purposeless, worthless, a total failure and well, cripples any kind of self confidence I have. Making your own money is the first step to feeling like you're accomplishing something, paying your bills and buying things of necessities and wants with that money is a fruit that is only too sweet. Obviously this isn't the one step solution to the problems people have about their own self, or life in general, but it is a good place to start, at least it has always been for me. Maybe, I am far more simpler than I think.

Oh and when you've been working hard, coming home and resting is all that much more sweeter. So I've never ran away from excessive amounts of work or even responsibility for that matter. However, I don't like to enslave myself to the place I work at. I do love to be able to embrace the place as myself, protect it's needs and interests and do my best to promote it, I do work hard, this is why I am still so dearly loved at Sinbad's. That's why I could come at any time I like. Because I do my job deserving. But also, your employer has to acknowledge that work and be fair. Other wise, unlike Sinbad's and most like Subway I used to work at, the turn over will be high. Just as an employer has to be satisfied with their employees, an employee has to be satisfied with their employer. It's a mutual beneficial relationship and well, if one party is behind in fulfilling their responsibilities, it will eventually effect the other, therefore becoming mutually destructible towards one another.

Itches and Hiatuses.

I've had to take a short hiatus because of the fact that things happened quickly and I just didn't have the time nor the energy left to write about things...much to my dismay as many can imagine. And every time I pause my writing things in my life seems to go hay wire and fights certainly occur. I don't know if it's a curse or if writing truly keeps me grounded and sane.

To be fair though, things have been hectic in my life; as always though change is something I am good at adapting and something I look forward to.

Putting that aside though, the itch to write has been crawling underneath my skin and my fingertips have been aching and cramping to write. The urge to string lines together and non-rhyming couplets find their way out of my lips and I can see myself growing more frustrated as I haven't really picked up the pen other than to write letters. As great and intimate as writing letters are, anyone close to me in real life know that I give great importance to writing letters and receiving them in the mail makes me the happiest living person in the world, however I do need to journal heavily and write poetry often to really flush out what's in my mind.

It's lightening and thundering here right now and the sound in the background that comes with rain is beautiful, soothing and at the same time titillating. It exhilarates me and drops new seeds of hope deep within my soul that stirs the rest of my being to do something, to be out there. It takes away my worries and the haunting questions of the past vanishes into the fog and with the dew comes the bliss of today is presented to an individual.

And I'm off to write on that note.

Hello rain...

Hiatus and then some...

I had to take a short hiatus to yield to the daily demands of well, daily lives. Nonetheless some extremely important events has taken place in my life that have definitely effected the out come of the direction of my life in the long run.

The preparations for Irem's coming is slowly being completed. I have one big thing left to purchase (a bathroom organizer) with a few small things. Irem coming over was a good excuse to complete the missing necessities in my home, but more importantly has made me think about some experiences in my past. While, I am usually against comparing and contrasting some truths stare straight at you and reckoning the difference between two people becomes as clear and different as night and day. I never could settle, never could feel like I could belong--I just had to hate here, had to be displeased with everything and everyone around me. The more I liked it here and wanted to stay, the more uncomfortable he became and started to say things that would sting. The more I tried to make myself feel at home, change things around and buy things to make my life easier, the more uncomfortable he became, the more he would lash out. The things I kept putting off buying, doing, seeing, etc. I think it all comes from his own restlessness which he always played out on me.

Don't get me wrong, I never had the notion to belong to one particular person. I have many homes. I am the type of person that likes to have "a home" and make her apartment just more than sleeping quarters as they said in the olden days. I like making it my own--I am a bit possessive. But I don't like to use the place I live like a hotel. I like painting the walls red, buying a bookshelf, decorating my walls with pictures and tokens of memories, decorate it with lamps and silly things. But now, I feel like I belong without any of that trouble. Without the struggle, but rather with a lot of support and care that I never had before, like ambushing me with the bookcase I wanted to buy. Helping me put my wall-mounted bookshelves on, helping me put together the storage cabinet I bought. These are all important things that I cherish and they hold a significant place in my thought process.

Now, only if I could find a job...