Frustrated

Frustration.

Pure unadulterated bloody effing frustration.

It’s like I take a step and 5 more doors slam on me, bolted shut and bounced by the bodyguard of bureaucracy.

We live, looking to the future, always thinking (even subconsciously) of the best. Hoping and being told over and over again that there is Always Hope. That when life hands you lemons you go and make some bloody lemonade.

But, what if your luck is so terrible that even those lemons you’re handed aren’t ripe? That the zesty sour citrus is actually achingly acidic?

I’m dousing this entry with pessimism I know.

I had intended to make a post about successfully living through the first three weeks of college with the juggling of work and travel, and all the happiness I feel in being able to take on Adcanced Maths (so so SO very happy by the way).

But word must come as my fingers fly over this well selected keyboard, and they do, a will of their own and I will conclude this post with these words.

Working for your dream, for the chances that should appear but never do, is damn fricking hard!

I suppose that’s why success is said to be so sweet.

BUT will success ever truly be satisfactory? Will not our mind seek to pursue more? Human nature being ungrateful as it is, never content with the walkway, the escalator, the elevator or even a bloody cherry picker. We want to reach that star and there will always be more stars beyond that.

I’m obviously in a very optimistic mood here.

I pray to my Lord that He keeps me content, that He makes me thankful with what I have and always be happy with even the little successes in life. Ameen.

Waiting is the Watchword

Waiting. 

That’s the keyword for today.

Wait for the hot water. Wait for the sun to rise. Wait for the tea to cool. Wait for a bus. Wait out fellow commuters slugging along Longford. Wait for the end of assembly. Wait for the next colleague. Wait for the test to end for surely these seconds could pass for minutes.  Wait for another bus. Wait for my door to open. Wait for my ride. Wait for that receptionist. Wait for a dozen incorrect logins to verify. Wait for salaah to begin. Wait for this lab door to open. Wait for it all to begin.
…and yes my list may have ended there, as my teacher came along and finally unlocked the lab, but sadly it was not the end of my wait.
However, the real cherry on the Waiting Pie? You never asked, but I will nonetheless reply: The third bus of my day.

That 20A national express that sped away from campus as I stepped out its “convenient” automatic doors. Leaving me to wonder around aimlessly for 32 minutes.
Why, thank you Coventry for the regular prompt rotation of buses.

And here I am unable to a acknowledge that these choices I’ve made are for the best.

Because here on this bus where I sit (the fifth bus of the day) my empty stomach and medicated mind wonder: Why does my head feel sucked up of all air? Barren. And yet heavy too, in all its stillness. Like the wide expanse of a parched desert-scape, airless and stifling, only accepting the stark, unforgiving rays of the scalp. Tightening.  This is how I found my coherency (much later); tangled and strained. As for the goals I had? Well those I’m sure will come back to me once I breathe again.

In hindsight, as I read over this entry I realise much of it may seem incoherent and exaggerated. But reader understand that the human being is complex and every one of our minds holds the capacity for infinite combinations and variations.

It just so happens that on this day my mind, body and soul felt used up. I do not apologise (except to my health). I do believe however, that every tear, strength of will and challenge that we shed, show and solve can only make us all the more stronger.

Here’s to us all on the days where Brain and Body rage war on Ambition. Kisses and Hugs on the house.

And through all difficulty and every ease we should turn to the Most High. I pray that I always do. That the Angels above become so attuned to my voice that even my whisper of help (or happiness) brings forth the rushing response from Above. Ameen Ya Rabul’Alameen.

and unto you Peace.

College Is Not a Place For Spirits to Revel

Four buses had better be worth it…

So a quick glance at my previous entries and I feel the sickening pit in my heart as I realise the spirituality that gushes unto one during the beautiful month of Ramadhan seems to have puffed out.
BUT
there is hope in the air (perhaps a lasting scent?). I sincerely hope it’s fortifying.
See, the crux of this sudden post is that I have finally took the leap and done something that seems so out of the bounds of my life. It may be a trivial matter to most. Actually it’s pretty run-of-the-mill to practically all.
I enrolled at a college.
*silence*
yes the above is the response I’m most likely to get.

But the fact of the matter is: It never seemed a possibility for me. Yes, I’ve studied and done my A-Levels but the matter would take a whole James Joyce narrative to explore. So lets put a cork on that. CLUCK.

(Either that’s a demented cork or my conscience actually is a chicken).

RETURN to…my spirituality.

As I took many words to mention above, I started college but nothing is ever as you imagine.

Yes, the campus is great, the staff are helpful and the course promising. But I felt blotted. (Yes blotted not bloated, or even blooded.) The tension in my neck took camp all over my head by the end of the day. And as I sat analysing over the day and all I needed to do now I realised why.

Spirituality. See the thing is my whole life I’ve been blessed enough to have kept to a clean environment. Started work is the name of my Lord; kept my intention for the betterment of my deen; talked to my Lord through all aspects of my day; greeted peers and colleges with smiles and His Name and finally ended my tasks with His Name.

So you can see what my blotter is. It’s the stamp of bureaucracy. The ink of officialism and the print of RESULTS.

This is all good and well for an institute. Actually after working as a teacher/assistant for over three years I say its required if one wants to run a stable yet productive hold.

BUT, as a new chicken I see the production line and I see the future they promise. I just don’t see a handhold.

I ask for no clutch, I simply miss the faith and the good intentions. I miss the spirituality that aligns itself with working for a purpose of good.

I mentioned this over-tensed and blotted feeling to a dear friend of mine who recently graduated. She confirmed that yes “to be honest it does chip away at your spirituality.” However she also said being hyper aware of this can aid you in keeping to your happiness and faith. So I hope this dream of mine to pursue a good education that allows me to continue teaching, runs smoothly and that Allaah the Almighty protects me from above, from below, from the right the left, from whatever may come behind me, and anything that faces me. And gives me the strength to hold onto my faith and love till my last breath. Ameen thuma ameen.

وعليكم السلام

and unto you be Peace