It was like those moments where out of nowhere you remember an
appointment, a major deadline. My palm reached the top of my forehead in a
painful slap as I read his most recent post on Facebook. It was a re-tweet from a girl I noticed he was constantly re-quoting these days. She
was a girl someone introduced me to long long ago (via Facebook), who was apparently
supposed to be my golden ticket to writing nirvana. She wasn't.
At one point the SPAM notifications I was getting from her became irritable and I silenced the news feed. Don't get me wrong,
she was...is...interesting. Really. But I realized her style greatly
differed from mine. While I write in silence and secrecy, only releasing
pieces when I'm ready to drop a heavy bomb on a sensitive cultural/social issue, she spammed her
work. Her phrases. Her quotes. People were constantly reading about her
and her life and political thoughts/dreams/aspirations/journeys; but after all that's the way
the evolved creatures thrive today. I'm still old fashioned in the
sense that I like to be somewhat reserved. I don't always feel the need
to share my personal life. But he does. And suddenly it hit me, what if
she is a girl that has caught his eye? Could she be his type? Could she actually be his current interest?
I thought what if tomorrow, when I deposit that first fluorescent colored envelope
in the mail and it reaches the hands of an old postal worker who will
drop it off at his P.O. Box, I will be wasting my time in this pathetic yet creative
secret admiration endeavor? It killed me as I began taunting myself with
a quick sprint through her recent photos and posts. Has he "Liked" or
commented on anything recently? He's clearly re-tweeted enough; my News Feed has bombarded me with it. Is she pretty in his eyes?
Prettier than I am? I guess that's relative to whoever looks at us. I'm
covered in religious terms and my photos depict that. Hers depict the choice to not cover religiously. It's not slutty; it's casual. But is
that his preference? Pretty, uncovered, political, social network addict? The comparison bug was starting to bite all over me.
This entire time I've been at peace with taking a distant and slow quest
with him, but that's because I thought I'd be alone. But how could I
have been thinking so naively when all along it's been clear, I've never
been alone in this nonexistent competition. I have over 500 potential
female competitors, and that's only on Facebook. If I include the count
of Twitter, LinkedIn, and the real world females, I'm screwed! And here's where
the bottom line mimicked a safety-net-less ground to catch me.
I am not into politics. I never have been, and with the way every
country on this planet runs its government, I don't think I could ever
be. It's a deformed game of lies. Strange considering my most recent
choice of study was Public Policy & Administration, but I guess in
the logistics of it, I don't actually have to be a politician to work on enhancing society through the betterment of
government. It's been my passion to help society at large, and I saw the
works of public policy & administration to be a stronger
mechanism, along with my sociology background, of reaching change.
But I noticed along the years that my writing, my works, rarely ever
reach a big enough audience because it's never considered controversial in the political realm. Never the "hot topic" of mainstream political issues, which gets the bigger attention. I cannot pinpoint something with relation to
Obama, China, Democrats, Tea Party, political uprisings, movements or
the likes. It's not
what my eyes see. While these politicians dance around and manipulate
the world with their dysfunctional philosophies, I focus on the
substance beneath it that actually emanates from the society they supposedly run.
The husbands that abuse their wives. The women
that carelessly deal with their children. The girls who have no
self-esteem and have contemplated suicide. The increased drug use that
has taken away enough souls from the high school right down the street
from my home. The increase in hate crimes, as
well as the increase in interfaith activities to combat such things.
The way in which a love can thrive and flourish within a heart when you
meet a man that takes your breath away (like he has). The way
in which a love can be crushed with the simplicity of a weightless "no" and
break a person apart (like I surely will be).
But I cannot see nor create a piece on politics, even if I tried.
And it left me wondering, would that be a flaw in his eyes? I wanted
to apologize to him, to say to the world, "I'm sorry, but I cannot be your
political writer. I cannot whip out an amazing brief on the most recent
presidential debate, or post on my blog a piece on which bill or proposition was just
reviewed/approved/rejected. Sorry I can't display my every thought on
these subjects so you can "Like," comment, re-tweet, or buy into it."
I was standing in Starbucks one day after the most intense Pure
Barre workout on this planet. [Seriously, check it out if you want to
sweat like never before - www.purebarre.com].
A man had just finished ordering his drink and walked over, waiting its
arrival. I ordered my iced tea and followed his way. Somehow I felt
like the eyes of the current public would not be dwelling upon me like they typically do,
because today there was him. He was a very handsome older man who appeared to have just
stepped off Wall Street for a quick caffeine stop. His wavy hair was
not receding but graying with refined spots of white. He was tall, very tall, and well built. His
skin was aging but not dull. Reminded me of my father's; they were about
the same age from what I could tell. He was dressed in a very
attractive three-piece suit. Gray, like his hair, with white pinstripes
and a small silk white handkerchief in the left pocket at the chest. I
truly felt like I had just been transported to the Starbucks on 45 Wall
Street and would be heading back to the building across the street for the 1:30
board meeting on the 27th floor! But I wouldn't be in my GAP yoga pants
and sweatshirt. No, I'd be in my black slacks and that gorgeous new mustard blazer hanging
in my closet, a perfectly matching scarf, and my one only choice of footwear: Five inch stilettos.
When I was done secretly gawking at the imaginary trip I had just
taken
to the Big Apple I prepared to unlock my phone and check Facebook until
my tea arrived. [We can thank Mr. Facebook re-tweeter for
my sudden resurgence on social networking]. But before I finished my
password Wall Street spoke to me. "It's an addiction you know." I looked
up to see his white smile facing me. I laughed and turned the screen
off. "I know, but those companies have done such a magnificent job of
catering to our inner temptations that I just can't bear the thought of
disappointing them." He nodded and looked back at the counter. "Yeah,
I've been convincing myself to quit and reduce my usage." The sincerity
in his voice made me wonder if he had discovered the secret to becoming
less technologically obsessed. "And has that worked?" I asked with
curiosity. He laughed as he looked back to me. "No!" I joined in the
laughter and said, "Well, when you discover that secret, please, let me
know."
Our drinks did not arrive. Four others were waiting before us. "Are
you Muslim?" he asked me as we both leaned back against the window. "I
am," I said without hesitation, although suddenly I noticed everyone at Starbucks suddenly shift their focus at this odd pair that had just sparked what could potentially be a hot "political" topic. We mentioned the "M" word. "I've never met or spoken to a
Muslim before in my life, so...." I was shocked. No wait, let me find a
synonym to supersede that word. Stupefy! Although that word reminds me of Harry Potter lol, I was stupefied. A man of
such a sharp and well rounded appearance, here in Orange County, had
never met nor spoken to a Muslim before? But I held my tongue because I
knew he had more to say, and I was eager to hear it. Clearly he did not
appear to be someone with a vendetta or racist agenda.
"I'm not really sure what to believe from what I'm hearing on the
news now. I mean should I be scared?" He asked the latter part jokingly
and we both laughed. "Um, no I don't think so?" I said in somewhat of
girlish tone, while mockingly "flipping" my pink floral scarf over my
shoulder to add to the innocence in my voice. But the reality is just that;
no, Muslims should NOT be feared.
Because a true Muslim, the one who actually abides by and implements the
realism of their faith is nothing like what is being displayed in the
media. And I told him just that. "See the thing is unfortunately the
media highlights the worst of
the worst, and so the rest of us suffer in the background. But I guess
that also demonstrates how much more we need to do to get into the spotlight. And, if you
want my
opinion, those people who do such atrocious things have applied nothing
from the
faith that I follow and I call Islam." He nodded. "Yeah, I am just
confused and concerned. I mean I don't know." I bit my lip, realizing I
had to make an extra effort to actually empathize with this man because he didn't know
Islam like I did, so he really would be confused.
"Where are you from?" he then asked. This question has
recently faced an influx in my life, and so I've shifted the way I
respond. A long time ago I would merely say, "Syria" and end it there.
But the truth is I am from America, with my family's heritage and roots
being from Syria. Don't get me wrong, I am proud of my Syrian heritage
and will always be. Great things once resonated from that country and I
do believe they will do so once again when the Syrian people finally
receive their humanity and freedom. But the fact of the matter is, I was
born here, raised here, studied here, lived here, worked here, and plan
on staying here to offer the best of what I have to the country that has given me the best of what it has. I'm as American as apple pie...and that's what I told Mr. Wall
Street, but after I explained that "my family is from Syria, but I was
born in LA and raised here in Surf City."
He smiled, "I figured. You're eloquent and have no accent." I
withheld the urge to curtsey at that point and listened to his next
question. [Yes our drinks had not yet arrived, but the truth is although
this conversation seems to be long, it managed to start, climax and end
within four and a half minutes]. "So what do you do now?" Ah yes, the next
question I seem to be constantly facing. I need to get a t-shirt that
says UNEMPLOYED AND SEARCHING. "Actually I'm job hunting right now and
it's a bit difficult." He squinted as he looked up to the ceiling, like
he was contemplating what job openings he knew of. "Hmm, well what are
you studying, or what did you study?"
"I finished my Masters in Public Policy & Administration last
year, and I'm really interested in working with local government in city
planning/development, management or public works." His eyes widened. Now he
was stupefied. "Oh wow! Masters! I didn't...I mean you...."
Yes, yes, I
know, I get it, I look like I'm fifteen. Try adding ten years to that
and let's get back to the topic (okay, I didn't actually say that, I
smiled instead). And here is where politics comes into the picture (for
those that were wondering where the hell I strayed). "Would you consider
being a politician then?"
I stopped, for the first time in my life, before answering this
question.
Usually I have an automated answer: NO! But this time something made me
reconsider. Don't know if it was his suit, the exhaustion from my
workout, or the intoxicating fumes of roasted coffee beans, but I
contemplated. "Well, typically I avoid that thought, but I don't know,
maybe.
I mean during my job hunts and my recent views of things in society,
I'm wondering if I should enter that realm to actually make a needed change."
"Grande Americano for Lou!" His drink arrived. Saved by the drink I
guess? Who knows. But he left me with a handshake and this, "Think about
it. I really think you could be good. You're young and liberal, an Obama voter no
doubt. Good luck though and it was really nice meeting you!"
He walked out and I never saw him again; although I don't doubt a
reunion seeing as how we both live in the same city. But I went home
that afternoon with whirling thoughts, and a few things I was certain
of: I was absolutely sore from that awesome workout. The iced tea was a
definite refresher. I
left that man with a better impression of Islam and Muslims than he had before
stepping into Starbucks. And somehow he saw in me some tiny sliver of
overzealous hope. Could my passionate heat and words
be filtered in something that would damn well revolutionize some aspect of our juvenile system of politics? Could I?
As I read this guy's Facebook wall flood with political updates and
the girl's Tweets, I felt like I failed at that so far. She definitely
beat me to the punch. Technically he's still not even "following me" on
Twitter [lol to the lingo of 21st century humans]. What I do know for
sure is that I will remain standing strong by the passions of my heart and its
desires in all I do in life. And especially so in my writing. I will not
allow myself to become a political addict and
writer or even a potential political candidate for the sake of
this guy, for the sake of anyone, except the citizens I
want to help and vice versa. The
citizens that sincerely support me and believe in my abilities to help
them in whatever situation we know we can tackle. Because I know that if
I make that promise to do so, I will die
before ever breaking it.
A friend of mine once called me a perfectionist, and
he half meant it a compliment, half a (constructive piece of) criticism. I told him, "Now, more
than ever, us Arabs need to pull out that perfectionism and implement
it in every step we take, or else we will be far worse off than we are now. " He
nodded, and I knew that he knew I was right.
One day my
perfectionism will pay off and my writing, political or not, will be
re-tweeted by a follower who sincerely finds me (and my work) worthwhile.
But in the meantime, Mr. Facebook will just receive fluorescent envelopes and a Facebook friend named Dania who posts
about social issues, love, poetry, and whatever interesting article I'll
come across and tag to Facebook.