Too many things to update about – at least two weeks’ worth – and in order to do it all justice, I’m going to hold off on it. Meanwhile, those of you who are in the SF Bay Area or the vicinity should stop by Berkeley for a free (that’s right! I said, FREE) event tomorrow evening:

Saturday March 11th, 6:00PM – 9:30PM

Does God Love War? The Fine Line Between Faith and Fanaticism

…[D]oes religion offer a way toward reconciliation? Or has it instead become part of the problem? Please join us for an enlightening conversation between two teachers worth listening to: Pulitzer Prize-winner and National Book Award-finalist Chris Hedges and the distinguished American-Muslim thinker and theologian, Hamza Yusuf. [Zaytuna Institute website.]

Venue: Martin Luther King Jr Middle School Auditorium
1781 Rose Street / Berkeley, CA 94704-1180 / Free off-street parking

Timings: Doors Open – 6PM / Reception/Book-signing – 6:15-6:45PM / Program – 7PM

Admission: Free (Wheelchair accessible)

[On a tangent, what Bay Area/vicinity folks read this weblog anyway? Inquiring minds would like to know. I thought I knew who my readership was, but I have a feeling that facebook has changed things up a bit. So, who are you? Come out, come out, whoever you are, and make yourself known, people.]

Anyway, I’ll be at the event tomorrow. Prior to that, it seems I’ll be spending most of the day doing what I do best – chauffeuring people around. A friend of mine recommended my name (apparently because I am chill and laidback and not a crazy, scary extremist, you heard it here first, people!) for escorting one of the guests for the “Does God Love War?” event. The filmmaker, Deborah Scranton, is the director of the upcoming documentary “The War Tapes,” the first to be filmed by soldiers on the frontlines in Iraq [more info here].

So I’m excited because it means I’ll spend much of the day hanging out with someone who sounds totally fascinating – and a bit nervous because of the same reason, and also because the day includes a private reception with the shuyukh. (WHO the shuyukh ARE, I don’t know.) Basically, I’m going to have to act smart and intelligent and with it all day, I guess, and those who know me know that I’m just not a smart and with it kind of person. Also, what the heck does one WEAR to a lunch with the shuyukh? I’m thinking super-flare jeans just don’t cut it. Flip-flops should be alright, because we all know flip-flops can’t be bidah when you’re Muslim. I’ll figure it out, don’t vorry.

[A couple of articles on the event here and here, with thanks to Baraka for the links.]

One more thing. Speaking of…stuff, have you ever seen anything as awesome as this? [Click the picture for a larger size.] I would venture that you most likely have not. Seriously, I don’t have enough words to tell you how awesome my imam is. M and D and I had way too much fun hanging out in front of the masjid after jummah today, giggling at this. I’m pretty sure I speak for all of us when I say this poster made our day. You can read more about our imam (Yassir Chadley) here and here.

As I mentioned earlier to D, THIS is the kinda guy I’d like to have as a roadtrip buddy. Just lookit him! Any imam who shops at The Guitar Store (he does! I saw him come into jummah one day with a whole bunch of musical paraphernalia) can be my imam anyday.

Dear God,

Have I told You lately how awesome I think You are? Well, You are. I’m sure You already knew that, but I just thought I’d reiterate it. I mean, You’re so awesome, You approach our relationship in the best way ever, which is to say You leave me alone. You let me screw up and figure stuff out on my own and find my way back to You in my own time. Just for that patience and mercy on your part, I’m grateful.

And now that we’ve gotten all the mushiness out of the way, let’s get right down to the point (because You know I can’t handle mushiness).

So, God, I’ve always thought you have a sense of humor. I mean, going back through my email outbox and chuckling at this article every few months makes me feel horrifically guilty, but that still doesn’t stop me from laughing. I know it’s horrible of me, but I can’t stop finding it funny.

And since You (hopefully) have a sense of humor, please take the following request in the most lighthearted manner possible, alright? But pay attention. ‘Cause I’m serious.

The point of this letter is to tell you how much I disapprove of this seriously cracked-out weather you’ve decided to bless Northern California with recently. I mean, Dude, what’s going on? All I see is rain and clouds and rain and mini pieces of hail showering down everywhere, and then more rain. This is California, God! Land of sunshine and oranges and happy cows and Real California Cheese! But most importantly, SUNSHINE!

Yeah, the sunshine. Where’s it at, God?

Here’s what I think You need to do: You need to send the rain elsewhere. Like, to Ireland or Washington state or England or wherever else people are excited about the damn incessant rain. Even Greenland; Greenland sounds like they would need a whole lot of rain in order to keep their green land green. Yessiree bob – err, I mean, God.

But California is not Greenland. We don’t want to be Greenland (even if people in Greenland – at least, the jailed ones – are having way more fun than us right about now). We don’t like green, either. We like red, orange, and yellow: sunshine colors! No one in California is excited about the rain, that’s for sure. Except, perhaps, my very own father, who saw the storm outside his bedroom window yesterday afternoon and gleefully remarked, “It’s raining! That’s wonderful! I was starting to get tired of the sun and warmth!”

Tired of it. Did You hear that, God? (Of course You did.) That was blasphemy, right there. You know it.

So, yeah, You need to calm down with that infernal rain, Dude. Ooh, “infernal” – that makes me think of “furnace.” Yes, that’s just what we need to be feeling in California: nice and toasty warm. But not like Hell, alright? I mean, 75F-ish is all I’m asking. Okay, okay, today’s the last day of February, I know. How ’bout 65? I can handle that.

Tomorrow. That’s what this whole thing is about. I need sunshine tomorrow. Come on, God, get with the program! Beginning of a brand-new month and all that. Let’s start it off on a nice, sunshine-y foot. You know I don’t care at all about the rest of that drama, as long as it’s nice and sunny and warm. That’s all I ask. Also, sunshine on Friday would be rocking of You, too, because Friday is also important. So let’s get the sunshine started for Wednesday and Friday, and that would make you my favorite Rockstar ever. Seriously.

Basically, I will be pissed if you let it rain tomorrow. Don’t make me shake my fist at you, God.

Just in case You don’t find all this as amusing as I do, and decide You need to smite me down, I won’t be free tomorrow. But I’m pretty sure I’ve got next week all open and clear for smiting purposes. Thanks much.

And, just so You know (which of course You do), there are plenty of other people besides me whom You could focus on smiting instead. Like, all the crazy extremists and politicians and bad people in general who are helping this world go to the dogs. And the California DMV, which decided I can’t use credit cards to pay for my driver’s license renewal. Really, God, You think I walk around with wads of cash all the time? Come on, now.

And especially smite-able are those mean people with fat, pudgy feet who try on all the pretty, 80%-off flip-flops at department stores and stretch them out so that when I – with my skinny feet, thank You very much – come along and try them on, all I do is slip ‘n’ slide down the aisle because my feet won’t stay in the sandals. That’s right, those are the people you should be smiting, is what. I mean, do You understand how many pairs of flip-flops I coulda bought today, God? Seriously. A lot, is what.

Oh, except Somayya has pudgy feet, and she’s my favorite partner-in-crime, so I’ll have to re-think this smiting business and get back to You, alright?

(You know I love You. I just have a weird way of showing it, is all.)

Don’t forget, now! Sunshine tomorrow!

In gratitude for Your light,
-yasmine

[Thanks to HijabMan for the Greenland link. Way to start a day with laughs.]

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Shadows while sitting on the sunshine steps, originally uploaded by yaznotjaz.

The above photo was taken last Friday, while D and I relaxed on the steps of MLK Hall at UC Berkeley after the traditional post-jummah [Friday congregational prayer] lunch at Julie’s Cafe.

D was waiting for her housemate to pick her up, and I was waiting with her because when the sun is out in full-force like it was that afternoon, you can be sure there is nowhere else I need to be. I stretched out my legs and squinted into the sun. We talked about lots of things I can’t remember now, although I do recall regaling D with lots of stories about my childhood. I can talk about my childhood all day long, just so you know.

Once in a while, I would say, “The sun’s gone!” and we’d move over to another sun-splashed spot on the steps.
“You don’t have to stay,” D would say.
“No, I want to!” I said, because I was enjoying this – sitting on the steps, sitting together in the sunshine. And, besides, I had nothing else to do (as far as I was concerned).

Somehow, the photo reminds me of things I’m grateful for today, and, oh, everyday: My family, my health, (my relative wealth?), my friends who make such efforts to stay in touch even though I suck at returning phone calls or replying to their emails. All my jummah buddies – D, and my fellow headwrap fanatic M, and the crazykids W&F and their never-ending crowd of cousins – who make the Fridays spent in Oakland/Berkeley so much fun. The sunshine – and friends who will sit with me in the sunshine, and patiently scoot over with me when I obsessively follow the sun’s warmth as it shifts even if it means the sun will be directly in their eyes. Also, my brand-new super-flare jeans. (Yep, they’re so worth adding to the list.)

“When you were a kid,” asked D last Friday on the MLK steps, “what did you want to be when you grew up?”

After the slightest of hesitations, I answered, “A professional frisbee player.” D laughed and said that was the best answer she had ever heard.

I was completely serious. It’s true; that’s exactly what I had wanted to be. I remember throwing frisbees so far, and so hard that I would blister my father’s palm; he used to grimace in pain and drop all the frisbees he’d catch from my end. I used to dream about growing up and becoming a professional frisbee player and receiving accolades for my amazing frisbee skills. I had such grand ambitions, I laughed to D.

Since frisbee’s been out of the running for several years now, I seriously need to reevaluate what my next grand ambition should be once I grow up. This adulthood business is such a process.

[I’ve just gotten back from running errands. The girl at the bank wished me a “Happy Valentine’s Day!”
I almost rolled my eyes, but instead smiled and said, “Thanks! You, too!”
Besides, I was wearing red, so who was I to be making faces about Valentine’s Day? Must point out, though, that I was wearing red simply because it’s my favorite color, and not because I particularly care about St. Valentine and all this drama he’s created.

But it’s not worth antagonizing the Valentine’s Day-lovers, I’ve decided, because the bank was giving out free chocolates, and I’ve made it a sincere policy to be nice to those who have chocolate to offer.]

And a fitting end to this random post –
Just received an email from my other friend, D, who concluded with:
“One of these days we should just run away and do things we used to do, like look at a damn tree and start cracking up.”