Closing Pandora's Box

I was browsing BBC Radio 4 podcasts¹ and came across the Beyond Belief programme², and a particular podcast titled ‘The history and place of Islam in America’ (Mon 4^th Oct 2010). The discussion warmed with an introduction as to how Islam spread to America, and then moved onto the main topic of whether it is right to build an Islamic Centre on Ground Zero³.

You can download the podcast here (12.7mb)

The following quote is from Pamela Geller⁴. Start listening from 13mins 30sec:

It's not two blocks from the site, it is Ground Zero. That building was partially destroyed in the attacks of 9/11. The landing gear crashed into the roof and to erect a fifteen storey mega-mosque and Islamic centre in a building that was destroyed in 9/11 is deeply offensive and insulting and deliberately provocative. Why there?...We have hundreds of mosques in New York City, we have thousands across America, it's not an issue of religious liberty. No-one has suggested abridging or invoking the first amendment, it's an issue of common decency and human compassion. We're constantly being schooled in this hypersensitivity in the Muslim world; you can't run the Danish cartoons, you can't say the word Muhammad on Comedy Central or run Muhammad in a huggy bear costume because it's deeply offensive. And yet, there's no reciprocity. You know, where is the mutual and mutual respect? Where is the mutual and mutual understanding? Over 70% of Americans are opposed to this mosque. It's deeply offending, it's painful. Many moderate Muslims, Muslims of conscience feel that a mosque on Ground Zero is deeply offensive and wrong. (15.42 onwards)

What do you think about the issue? Which side are you on?

Do you agree with her when she says:

In the Shari’ah you cannot insult Islam, you cannot defame Islam… (15.08)

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Title: Breaking the habit – Linkin Park
¹The podcasts for BBC Radio 4 can be found at the following address: http://www.bbc.co.uk/podcasts/radio4
²Debate exploring the place of religion and faith in today’s world (BBC Radio 4): http://www.bbc.co.uk/podcasts/series/belief
³Also known as Park51, the Mosque & Community Centre’s team’s blog can be accessed here: http://park51.org/
⁴Pamella Geller, who featured in the discussion, has her own website, on which her biography can be found: http://atlasshrugs2000.typepad.com/about.html
⁵Proposed picture of Park51 taken from: http://batteryparkcity.com/real-estate/developer-sharif-el-gamal-sees-park-51-mosque-as-empire-state-building/

Today was a meh day. Just one of those days. My mind was all over the place, wanting to visit places I didn’t want it to go, worrying about people; those who I hadn’t heard from in weeks, and those that were ill. People tell me to worry less and I just roll my eyes because worrying is what I do.  It was in this confuddlidified state of mind I got on the bus and made my way to university this morning. You know when you just want to get from A to B, do what you have to do at B, and just come home without drama or anything out of the ordinary? Yeah I wanted today to be like that. But what a day it was going to be.

“Stop looking at me bruv,” an annoyed voice said at the back of the bus. I was sitting on the top deck, in my seat (the one I always sit in) reading Where does it hurt¹ that Pink recommended to me. I realised I had read the same sentence about Molly twice.

“I said stop looking at me! And don’t you dare lift your hands up at me.”

No reply.

“Bruv, I’m telling you, if you don’t put your hand down, I’m gonna f*** you up proper.” What is wrong with kids? I thought to myself, why can’t you just shut up and let me read about Molly and her addiction?

“Are you deaf or something? This is the last time I’m telling ya. Put  your hand down, and don’t look at me.” The other person who was looking and had his hand up didn’t reply. I got a weird mental image of a little child with no face sitting there at the back, with his hand up waiting to be granted permission to speak so they could reply back to the other angry voice. Put your hand down and stop looking at him you dumbass, I thought.

That’s when we heard it, an extremely loud thud of something hitting against the window. The something in question was a head. Everyone turned around. The fight had begun. Obscene words mixed with punches  were thrown to and fro, some hitting their targets while others missing. A man got up and tried to restrain the two boys as another ran down the stairs to call the driver. The bus suddenly pulled up on the side of the road and the driver signalled to a passing by police car. Next thing I know is, police are taking my details as a ‘potential witness’. What am I going to tell them? I was too busy engrossed in the lesson Molly, an elderly lady addicted to heroin was giving to a doctor. The driver told us the  bus wasn’t going to be going anywhere soon and so we should all change. Great. I couldn’t be bothered to wait for another bus so enjoyed a wet, rain-filled half hour walk to university.

University today was boring. I spent it alone on level 6 AKA the psychiatric level, in a teaching room reading journals. NSS² as one of my friends calls it, had finally begun. Reading journals, research papers and reviews is extremely boring, time consuming, and mong-out-ing³. If you don’t know what one looks like or what it contains, you can download a couple by clicking here, here, and here. The 3 I have linked to are of 9 I read today relating to my research project titled, ‘Lysophospholipid induced reactive oxygen species production in microglia’. It took me a good few days to decipher what that meant, let alone start investigating it. No wonder this semester is called NSS. Anyway, by 4pm I had had enough. My brain couldn’t take any more torture so I decided to call it a day and get back home. That’s when incident number 2 happened.

It had been raining pretty much all day and now it was raining heavily. I was standing at the bus stop, hoodless, waiting for the bus to come. The bus shelter was packed with people trying to get away from the rain. A pregnant Asian lady walked up to the middle-aged white guy who was sitting on the seat smoking a cigarette and drinking beer, and asked if she could sit down. “Don’t tell me what to do in MY own country,” he replied giving her a disgusting look. He didn’t stop there but went on and on and on about tax-payers money being stolen by 'Pakis who do nothing but sit at home and live off benefits’. I wonder how long he had been waiting to let it out his frustration and hate regarding ‘Pakis’?

My bus came so I gave the man one last look, prayed for a safe and quiet journey home and got on. On reaching the bus station I had an ‘inviting fly moment’ when I discovered Mr Racist was there. How the hell did he get here so quickly? He was sitting on the floor surrounded by a few community support officers and on closer observation I noticed he was hurt. There was blood all over his face coming from a cut on his left cheek. Why is it all the racist guys I have met have an injury on their face, usually a scar and this time a cut? In my bag I always keep a first aid kit, consisting of a few sterile wipes, some plasters and paracetamol. Was it worth me wasting my stuff on a guy who probably had nothing nice to say to me? I walked over, gave him some water to drink, cleaned his blood smeared face with a moist wipe and put a plaster on his cut. Then I finally walked home.

*****

I would like to take this opportunity to acknowledge an award given to me by the ever so lovely Kamila who is the amazing owner of Basket of Dreams. Though there are rules attached to this award, I wish to sincerely apologise that I am in a bit of a rush and due to a lack of time, cannot therefore fulfil them. =( *hangs head in shame* Forgive me Kamila!

With that, I wish you all have a restful and enjoyable weekend! :)

PS
I wrote this is a bit of a hurry so please excuse any spelling and or grammatical mistakes.

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Title: Bad Day – Daniel Powter
¹Where does it hurt? – Max Pemberton
²NSS – abbreviation for ‘No social semester’ referring to the lack of social life I will have this semester due to the amount of work.
³Monged – adjective, normally used to describe one that is stoned. I use it to define a feeling, that is abnormal such as feeling ill, tired, bored etc etc.
Photograph of a random London bus was taken from here
Photograph of moist wipe taken from here

When I was young, about 13 or so, my dad brought me a telescope and microscope to explore both the micro-universe and the macro-universe. They were modest things; the telescope had a maximum zoom of 400x and the microscope’s zoom was 200x. I used to love standing out in the garden during the depths of the night, just staring up at the stars and following planes. As I grew older and astronomy no longer had a place in the physics curriculum my star gazing days were left behind. Instead, my eyes were turned away from the heavens and towards the universe that lies within us, and here I am today studying all about it. Recently, I saw a link to The sky at night on BBC Iplayer, which sent me hurtling back to the nights of stargazing. The sheer size, magnitude and beauty of the universe, here at home on earth and out beyond the reach of my little grey telescope is awe inspiring and extremely humbling. So I decided to collect some beautiful pictures from NASA’s Astronomy Picture of the day website and share them with you. Each picture has an explanation, and caption which you can view by clicking on it. Enjoy!

You remember once I said smiles can be found any where if you look hard enough? Well there’s a smile in the beautiful photograph above. See if you can spot it.

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Title: Forever Young – Jay Z ft. Mr Hudson
All Photographs – Taken from http://apod.nasa.gov/apod/archivepix.html
Holy Qur’an, Surah Al Mulk, Chapter 67 : Verse 4

My little sister surprisingly gave me a box of chocolates. “This is how much I love you,” she said. When I opened it, I discovered the contents to be as follows:

I thought I’d share some love with all you lovely people…

…but then I eated it.

Uni tomororw, I can’t wait. But I have a really bad cold, my nose tap is extremely loose, my head hurts, as do my back and legs, and I feel so bored and exhausted. I hope and pray you all are in the best of health and I hope you have a lovely, productive and enjoyable week ahead.

:)

PS
I have a LOT of blog reading to do (I will visit you soon!). And a LOT of posts to put up. There’s one scheduled for errr someday I can’t remember, all about my love for universes, and then I have to write one about the closet, a book review and a film review. I’ve written another about an old discussion I heard on BBC 4. Don’t hold your breath otherwise you’ll be holding it for a LONG time.

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Title: What a wonderful world – Louis Armstrong
Photograph – Personal photography

I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky. I think about it every night and day, spread my wings and fly away.¹

I recently watched a filmed called ‘Dinner for Schmucks’. The film itself was full of crude humour, and personally I didn’t think it was all that. But there was a scene in it that I particularly liked and have shared it with you below:

When people tell us what we are doing is stupid, or we will never succeed, tell them, I am a dreamer.

You can only dream if you believe. If you believe in yourself, your ability, and what you want to do. Don’t just be a dreamer, fulfil those dreams of yours and don’t let anyone take them away from you.

I am reminded of my high school’s motto:

Vincit Qui Patitur
He who perseveres, conquers

Happy dreaming!

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Title: I Believe – Yolanda Adams
¹I Believe I can fly – R Kelly [Title of a previous post]
²Dinner for Schmucks [film] http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0427152/

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
When death comes and takes all the bright coins to buy me,
and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes like measle-pox;
when death comes like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

“When Death Comes” – Mary Oliver

*****

Then…

There were times when I screamed out to God. It’s ironic isn’t it? When we are happy and have no need whatsoever of calling Him, some of us are inclined to think of His presence as an intrusion. Go to Him then and He would take you in with open arms and make you feel welcome. But going to Him when all help was lost and you’d be faced with a closed door and silence. Such loud and echoing silence, that could drive you mad. All you would hear was your own voice, full of desperation and need being thrown back to you. Was He ever there?

Then something happens, or I hear something, or see a picture, or visit a place and memories flood back like a gushing river. Every single particle of ‘rationality’, ‘logic’ and ‘common sense’ is swept away by tears of grief. Clean and honest tears. Bathing myself in self pity is something I find so disgusting. It makes me cringe to think to think the bubbly Charley I remember, whose happiness was contagious and who was always overflowing with life has now become someone who brings nothing but sorrow. If she were to see me now, what would she think? And that brings me onto my next point.

Promises made with the dead while they held our hand, walked beside us and shared the same air to breathe as us are all well and good. There are many promises I will never forget, promises that I will keep with me forever and  will try my best to fulfil. But there are times when this so called ‘respect for the feelings of the dead’ brings me doubt. Sometimes when people say “is that what Charley would have wanted?” or “Charley wouldn’t have liked you doing such and such,” I wonder whether it is really just them using her name to say a piece of their mind, to vent their frustration at my never-ending sadness, or to have their way. I know it’s wrong of me. Their intentions are pure, they don’t mean it that way. But that momentary flash of desperation, of exhaustion and annoyance in their eyes makes me wonder. I hope I never am guilty of saying it that way to anyone.

At the beginning I used to be so afraid of going all those places Charley and I used to go, the walk through the parks or taking in the view of London from the top of Shirley Hills. But over the last year, I’ve visited the park many times in the depths of the night, and despite a few early incidents it wasn’t as bad as I had expected. Her absence wasn’t any more intense there as it was in other places; it’s not confined to a particular place. Her absence is like the distribution of air, it’s spread everywhere. It’s like that, I feel it while I’m sitting alone on the bus or I feel it when I’m feeling sad and in need of someone to talk to for example. But even that isn’t entirely true. There is one place where I feel it the most. Me. I miss her hugs.

*****

Now…

Tomorrow will be exactly one year since she passed away. ******* Cancer. I was speaking to a friend recently and they said to me, ‘How do you think Charley would feel knowing she was the reason behind your grief? Do you think she would want you to suffer endlessly because of her death?’

That made me think. Yes, I still do miss her, yes I still feel the emptiness from time to time, but it’s time I let it go. It’s time I came out of the shell I have been hiding in, wallowing in my sorrow, and felt the warmth of the sun on my skin, felt the refreshing rain and tried to truly enjoy happiness and all the other wonders of this life. On new year’s I was recovering from a very long day, getting rid of all that exhaustion that I completely forgot about Charley. When I finally realised, finally remembered, it was much more than a fading memory. It would not be right for me to call it a meeting (that’d get me locked up), but it was as if the armour of sorrow which had confined me for so long was removed. So much easier to breathe, so much easier to move. There were no tears, and that I think that is why I could see properly. My eyes still need time to adjust but it’s a beginning.

Have you ever said, ‘tonight I must get a good sleep because I have a long day tomorrow,’ and found you sleep very little? Have you ever said ‘let’s talk. Now’s the time’ and noted how silence ensues? Maybe if you desire something too desperately, you may not be able to get the best of it. Is that the same with the death of a loved one? Wanting so much to keep their memory alive, to remember each and every detail you find yourself looking into a dark and dingy hole which drags you in. A bit like a black hole. In the same way, I’m led to believe God was there all along. It was my own frantic screaming which stopped me from hearing that voice of help I had relied my last hope on. God gives to only those who have the ability and the willingness to accept. I was not ready to accept, I was not ready to listen and it was my mistake.

A few days before she passed away, Charley asked me find and print out the poem shown above. Another patient who was reaching the end of his life had told her about it and said they’d discuss it together when she had read it. They never got the chance, he passed away that night. When Charley finished reading the poem, with tears rolling down her beautiful face she said, ‘It doesn’t sound so bad having read that. Are you afraid? I wont leave till you say goodbye’. But I never got a chance to say goodbye. I was reminded of the poem while at the weekly hospice training, and it brought back sore memories. Am I ready to say goodbye yet? I don’t know. =/.

Reach – S Club 7.

We used to sing this song at school back in year 6. It was our song. It is now the first song on my playlist and I thought I’d share it with you.

I read this quote a few days ago, and it really hit home and really made me think:

If you focus to much on those you have lost, you’ll end up pushing away those that are left. – Unknown²

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Title: Iridescent – Linkin Park.
Picture 1: I have had this picture on my computer for a very long time, and so no longer have the link to it.
Picture 2: Same with this picture.
²Quote from http://www.boardofwisdom.com/

Brother: You’re dizzzzzzy bruv!

Me: Errrr, do you even know what that means?

Brother: It’s like crazy or weird.

Me: *rolls eyes* I’m not crazy or weird. What you on?

Brother: YES you are! And now you’re annoyed. And you haven’t said a single nice thing to me this morning. You’re always depressed. And you never laugh except when you’re playing tik tik¹ or when you’re on your laptop talking to your girlfriend.

Me: Shut up you idiot! I don’t have a girlfriend. T_T

2^nd Jan 2011

*****

Occasions like the beginning of a new year or a birthday allow us to take out the measuring stick and see how much we have grown, see how much we changed over the last year, and determine where we are standing. It gives us an opportunity to blow the dust off the goals and resolutions we set ourselves at the beginning of the previous year and take a break from the daily grind of life and see where the world has taken us. Are we still standing at the cross-roads lost, with no direction, no purpose, or have we found a path, our path, leading us where we want to go?

Here are my resolutions for this new year (in no particular order), and you can ask me at the end of this year if I was able to fulfil any of them:

• Stop being so nice and yet overall be more nice to people (refer to conversation with little brother above). Don’t ask me to explain this one.
• Survive next semester and make time for people even when there is little time. I’ll show you my weekly timetable once uni is in full swing.
• Stop procrastinating Procrastinate less. I don’t think a 10,000 word dissertation can be written the night before. Maybe it can. I haven’t tried so don’t know. Hmm… Cutting down on the time wasting would help too.
• Smile more and actually be happy for at least 10 minutes a day. Maybe it’s time to start smiling lessons in front of the mirror.
• Improve my vocabulary, and add more long and weird jargon words to my lexicon. The longest word I know at the moment is probably ‘hypothalamic-pituitary-gonadal axis’. SHUSH! it is a word and not 3 words with dashes in between.
• Write in my diary more. Yes I have a diary. Not a ‘Dear diary’ type diary, but a diary.
• Try not to forget any birthdays or anniversaries this year. I’ve started writing them in my year planner though I have forgotten a lot of the dates. Eeeek! Send me your dates people.
• Try and give library books back at the right time. Once I got a fine of £32.50. I could have bought 6 copies of that same book and still had money left over for some chicken and chips.
• Create a TV booking sheet, as to allow me to book my rightful place in front of the TV when Manchester United matches are on.
• Get a new job and somehow fit it around my already cramped weekly schedule.
• Rediscover the Nas I remember as a distant memory. Time to finally come out the closet I think.  NO Not THAT closet. I’ve never been in THAT closed. Will elaborate on this one later. Just remind me.
• Reference all my blog posts properly so that Furree Katt knows where my titles come from.
• Eat more badaam (almonds). UPDATED – 20 minutes after having initially posted.
• Learn to realise when food is hot and safe to eat. Just burnt my tongue AGAIN eating my fav daahl. UPDATED 2/01/11 @ 20.58.
• Remember to update this list, and actually stick to it.

We should not just celebrate the end of a year and the beginning of a new one, we should celebrate the end of every day knowing we made someone happy and start the next one hoping we can do it again...²

Last time I was at the bank waiting in the queue to pay a bill, I heard the following from an amazing little girl, who was no more than 9 or 10, talking to her friend and it brought a smile to my face:

This is my last cookie, and I’m only giving it to you because you’re my best friend. I hope you like it.

Would YOU share your last cookie?

Smile! And make those around you smile. :)

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Title: Machines – Biffy Clyro
¹ Tik Tik, noun. A game played by my brother and I in our bedroom upstairs with a shuttlecock and hardback books. Rules are similar to badminton. It was named as such by the mother. Injuries experienced are predominantly to do with the fingers.
² Quote from http://www.boardofwisdom.com/ which I read on another blog.