Category Archives: Blogistan and the Wide World of Webs

So you catalog in the angle you notice/in a vacuum you recharge to record this

All-Star Crackstar Squad, Blogistan and the Wide World of Webs

Orange opening: Somedays, I have hella good timing
Gelato! (Back to business), originally uploaded by yaznotjaz.

Wandering around aimlessly in downtown one day, I stopped by one of my favorite little shops, only to see the following sign on its door: UNOPEN. Which is a hell of a lot better than the deliberate finality of Closed, you know? UNOPEN means, We’re taking a little break, but we’re not gone, don’t worry! A return is imminent, within the next 5 minutes, or later in the day, or tomorrow, or in two weeks, who knows, but rest assured, we’ll be back! And that’s exactly how I’ve felt about this website over the last few months – except for the fact that I never talk about myself in the plural.

I can’t believe it’s been nearly four months since there has been a new post here. “Update your goddamn blog,” demanded HijabMan at the end of May. Several of you have left lovely comments exhorting me to update. In mid-July, I was watching a poetry slam in downtown San Jose when HMan called to inform me I was GROUNDED for not updating this website in over two months and “may you never taste a blue slurpee again.” Nearly every other day, the sister says, “DUDE! Update!” Even the blogistanis on flickr and facebook are getting into the swing of things. My excuse has been that I’m “too busy with work and livin’ it up.”

Hashim, one of my favorite flickr rockstars, doesn’t understand the point of weblogs. I tried to address his question as well as I could. Contrary to what my four-months absence may have made you think, I lowve blogistan, and although my flickr response seemed to focus more on the functionality of blogging, it’s the community I love the most. I didn’t spend five days on the East Coast for the “Newunion007” for nothing, you know. [Stories about that coming soon, too.]

Madelyne of Persisting Stars, whom I actually first met through flickr, wrote too many undeserved nice things about me recently, and made me realize how much I missed the blogging community. So, I thought I should come back to this little space of mine to share my stories, silly and mundane as they often are.

So. What do you what to know? Mainly, it’s been a summer of hellos and goodbyes and hanging-out sessions in the sunshine. I once wrote the following about my lovely friend, H:

H#4 (I have too many friends with “H” and “S” names. I swear I’m going to start numbering them like this) tried to talk me out of skipping class one day by grimly informing me that, based on her calculations, each time I skip one lecture, I am wasting $25 of that quarter’s tuition. My friends are such engineering nerds, can you tell?

Now, H – my official Eating & Napping Buddy – has left for graduate school in New York state. When we got too scared talking about how cold NY will be in the winter, I comforted her by saying, “Don’t worry, buddy boy. We’ll all come stalk you!” She will hold me to it, though: Over dinner at her home, the night before she left, we laughed about the two photo albums I had brought for her (a birthday/going away gift, filled with hundreds of photographs from the last several years; “You’ve documented my entire college career in here!” said H. “This is the best birthday present ever!”), and nicknames (“It’s so funny to hear you call her Yasmine,” H said to her parents. “Why, what do you call her?” they asked. “I call her ‘Yaz,'” she replied, then added hastily, “But you’re not allowed to call her that.” “Why not?” “Because only my yaars call me that,” I drawled), and my propensity for photographing food (“Yaz even takes pictures of french fries!” H told her parents). I ate three servings of fish, and two of potatoes, and one bowl of soup; when her father urged me to add some white pepper, his favorite, to my soup, H said, “Try it! It’s so good!”

“I bet you’re going to miss it when you’re in New York,” I said smugly.

“No, I won’t. You’ll bring it for me when you come visit.”

And that was the theme of the evening: “If all my sweaters don’t fit in my suitcase, you can bring them when you come visit.” “When you bring some oranges from your tree over for my parents, make sure you bring a few extra ones for me to New York.” “Oh, those photos you forgot to print out? Don’t worry, you can bring them with you when you visit me.”

I miss her, and those afternoons in college when I would climb the stairs to her apartment and sprawl on her couch, studying biology and physics while she pored over engineering notes, laughing as she pulled one tupperware container after another out of her fridge and freezer and demanded, “What do you want for lunch? Let’s eat!” We watched daytime TV (psycho soap opera dramas), traded music CDs, dozed off and took naps on that comfy couch. H gave me so many HIGHFIVEs that summer, as I passed one neurobiology quiz after another, much to my amazement and my friends’ collective refrains, I TOLD you, you could do it! Now I’m the one sending her highfives through GMail chat, as her status messages update us on negotiations with her landlord and newfound internet connections and settling into her apartment.

A left just a few days ago, too, back to Jeddah after a decade of school and work and play in the U.S. I’m going to miss his voicemessages, all of them with some variation of: “Hey, cracker. I know you’re a busy lady, but call me back!” I called him the other evening to say goodbye, since he is one of the few people with whom I enjoy having lengthy phone conversations [the others are pretty much Somayya and 2Scoops]. “Come visit!” he said.

“Saudi? Sure,” I said sarcastically.

“No, I really mean it!” he said. “When you come for Hajj. My sister lives in Mecca. And we have family in Medina, too. Stay with us. We’ll take care of you.”

“Lookit you all, A, taking over the WORLD!” I laughed. And although I’d rather stay close to the haram while on Hajj, it was a sweet offer and much appreciated, thoroughly in character with what I’ve come to expect from A, who is sort of the big brother I never had.

We always laugh about how we first met – last fall at the ISNA convention in Chicago, where he was tabling and translating at Haji Noor Deen‘s booth. I struck up conversation with A while waiting in line for the Haji to pen some calligraphy with my sister’s name, then lost patience with A as he kept mispronouncing her name. Finally, I grabbed a pen and scribbled it in Urdu/Arabic on a sheet of paper. “It’s like this, see?”

“That’s what I said,” he replied blandly – before repeating it incorrectly all over again.

The next afternoon, I saluted A on my way to stalk HijabMan at his booth, then backtracked for some conversation with A. “Long day,” he commented tiredly, then shrugged in that quintessential way he has. “But it’s okay. My friend and I will be hanging out in downtown this evening.”

“ME, TOO!” I exclaimed, all excited. “I’m going to a poetry slam with my friends. You should come with!” And that is how A and his buddy T became my new favorite friends.

Over dinner that evening, our lively conversation faltered into silence as B rapped the table and called out, “Okay, we need introductions! How does everyone here know each other?”

The silence was deafening, as we all looked around in confusion. “Uhh,” I said. “Well. I guess it revolves around me? I work with B. D is my jummah-buddy, and H is her friend from San Francisco. And these two guys…” I paused. “Well, I don’t really know them. But I invited them to the poetry slam in downtown Chicago. The one that WE ARE MISSING because you were all so damn hungry, THANKS A LOT.”

Even a year later, after ISNA2006 and hanging-out sessions in both San Francisco and New York and mile-long, reply-to-all “ISNA buddies” email threads and incessant text-messaging, none of us have forgotten the the fact that we missed a poetry slam in favor of “fine dining” on Devon. I have made sure they are periodically reminded of this. Okay, maybe constantly.

But even amidst all the goodbyes, there are friends still here. D, my favorite swing buddy from college, is now in the Bay for graduate school, and I’m looking forward to our future hanging-out sessions at the park.

And J, the one whom 2Scoops had said sounded a little bit like Malcolm X when I wrote about our interview, is in the Bay now for grad school as well, so I foresee an expanded circle of South Bay shenanigans.

And then, my phone vibrated the other evening with a call I hadn’t expected. I stared at the screen in astonishment, then flipped open the phone to shout my friend’s full name: “K____ A____, is that YOU?!” K is one of my favorite ex-coworkers from our old downtown Sacramento job, sort of another little brother to me, and it felt so good to hear him laughing at the other end of the line: “It’s me! How are you, buddy?” It’d been a long time, and I felt surprised and honored that he called me of his own volition. Scrolling through my phone again just now, I found three text messages I had saved from K:

1. [“Happy new year” in Farsi. At least, that’s what I think it is:] Eyde noruz mobarak. Omidvaram sale khubo khoshi dashte bashid.
2. “Hey, G is organizing a fashion show. Call her and bug her to be in it!”
3. “Hey, how is everything? Long time no see. By the way, give me back my hole puncher that I stole!”

Clearly, we will never tire of conversations about office supplies.

It’s been a summer of rockstars and reunions, as you can see. I shall have to tell you all about them.

Meanwhile, I’m back! SweepTheSunshine is OPEN for business, buddy boys.

[+]

NOTE: I will be in Chicago (for ISNA, naturally) over Labor Day weekend. You guys were not happy campers when I neglected to tell you last year, so I hope this is enough advance notice. If you want to hang out, let me know! [My email address is on the About page.] I foresee a Newunion, Part Two, to be had, since I’m coordinating hanging-out sessions with blogistan buddies and flickr folks and all-around rockstar friends. So, if you want a ready-made entourage, get in touch. Maybe we can even manage to make it to the poetry slam this year.

It’s not as easy as willing it all to be right

(3)BeautifulThings, Bibliothek, Blogistan and the Wide World of Webs, Rhymes and unrhymed lines, Rockstar and Crescent

"What are you doing?" asked my friend, after I had finished praying and was still kneeling on the floor.
Originally uploaded by yaznotjaz.

I’m so tired of constantly feeling so tired – I don’t sleep enough, I fall asleep holding books I once could have finished reading in a single day, I sleep crookedly, and my neck has been aching for over a week. Also, there’s that drama that enters my head once in a while: “Am I doing constructive things with my life? Let’s switch it up again!” Clearly, I am my father’s daughter, bored too easily and always wanting change. And yet, too much standing still while questioning my next step, mired once again in indecisiveness and lack of direction.

It’s too easy to get lost in progress, or lack thereof, so here are three beautiful things to remember from last week:

[+]

Poetry reading by Mohja Kahf at the Arab Cultural & Community Center in San Francisco last Monday. It was a wonderful evening, not in the least because I got to see the beautiful ladies, Momo and Baraka, again. And also because Mohja Kahf is hilarious, and that must have been the first time I laughed so much at a poetry reading. She writes candidly about topics such as sexuality and motherhood in a way that’s quite refreshing, as is her take on historical figures that become more approachable and human through her poetry – Asiya, the Pharaoh’s wife, sitting with her husband at a table of Neo-Cons; Asiya written up in the tabloids, dismissed as “crazy.” I picked up copies of Mohja’s poetry collection, E-Mails from Scheherazad, as well as her new novel, The Girl in the Tangerine Scarf, and asked if she could sign my sister’s copy of E-Mails from Scheherazad: “I’ve been specifically instructed to tell you that you’re her favorite poet.”

“Ooh, instructed,” she laughed. “Should I add some exclamation points to my signature?” And so, she did.

While I was waiting in line for the books, one of the women on the ACCC staff asked, “Do you write poetry?”

“No,” I said hurriedly, thinking she had confused me for RC, one of our rockstar Muslimah spoken word poets here in the Bay. (It wouldn’t be the first time; I think it’s the headwrap that confuses people.)

“You should,” she said. “We’re trying to organize some more poetry events here at the ACCC, and we’d love for more young people to participate.” She wrote down her name and email address for me.

I remembered how, the week before at the Poetry for the People reading at UC Berkeley, D had asked the same question, “Do you write poetry, too?”

“Ehh, no,” I said. “I only write maybe one poem a year, when I’m forced to.”

“But they’re always such good poems!” interjected my sister.

The day after the Mohja Kahf reading, my buddy A harassed me about my refusal to participate in the open mic at Blue Monkey, too: “Only losers don’t do poetry readings at an open mic.”

So now, apparently, I need to write more often.

[+]

Writing travels the world: Maliha’s beautiful essay, Necessary silence of being made its way to me not only via Blogistan, but also through an email listserve I’m subscribed to. I emailed her to let her know, and received the following reply:

I’ve been lurking around your site and wish you, missy, will take a break from all the messy and beautiful chaos around you, to write a bit more. But with spring weather finally here, and the greys and storms dissipated, I totally don’t blame you for sweeping specks of sun rays rather than blog.

So, there we go, another reminder to write more often, from the beautiful lady who excels at it. It’s too bad that, as I explained to Maliha, writing these days means, for me, too many incomplete posts saved as drafts, and too many scribbled bullet-points in my little moleskine notebook that need to be turned into real posts. And, yet, my buddy Z exclaims: “How did you blog so soon after the last one? How do you have enough material?” It’s not for lack of stories, clearly.

[+]

Explanation of the photo that accompanies this post: Ayesha my love and I canceled our dinner plans last Thursday, so I was left with a free evening, and was actually rather looking forward to being able to go straight home from work.

But then: “Come over to my place for dinner!” said R.

“Who else is going to be there?” I asked warily. I was not in the mood to socialize with people.

“Me!” said the co-worker-in-crime, B.

“And?”

“Just us,” assured R.

“It’s not some fancy-schmancy thing, is it?” I asked. ” ‘Cause I won’t be able to stand it.”

“Not at all!”

So, I went over to her apartment in Fremont after work. We had dinner, and then it was time for maghrib, the evening prayer. There was no awkward questioning: Will you be praying? Will you not? Should we wait for you? Instead, it was all so matter-of-fact: Here’s a rug; the bathroom’s at the end of the hall; I have an extra scarf, if you need it. I appreciated the straightforwardness – needed it, in fact.

R pulled out a prayer rug for me to use – it was short and narrow and golden-yellow, the perfect size for my frame, and something about the beauty of it moved me nearly to tears as I was praying. When I sat cross-legged afterward, hands raised in supplication, my knees jutted over the sides of the slender rug. It had been so long since I had prayed (much less, regularly), and there was something bittersweet – ridiculous and yet so fitting – about the fact that a yellow sunshine-colored rug made me want to pray more often.

“What are you doing?” asked R, after I had finished praying and was still kneeling on the floor.

“Taking pictures of your rug,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because it’s so pretty!”

“And what are you going to do with the pictures?” she asked, puzzled.

I almost replied, Put them up on flickr for the world to see, but said instead, “I’ll look at them!”

She rolled her eyes, picked up the prayer rug off the floor, folded it swiftly, and placed it on top of my purse. “Here. You can have it. Now you can look at it all the time.”

I hadn’t expected this, but I was too giddy with quiet delight to politely question her decision with, Are you SURE?

We sat around afterward, drinking mint tea (okay, I just experimentally sipped a little bit of it; “Will you be offended if I don’t drink this?” I asked R and her roommate L, but they assured me they would not be). “That’s fresh mint from Zaytuna,” L said proudly.

I nearly choked on laughter. “Were you skulking around Zaytuna, picking mint leaves in the dark?” Indeed, she had been. She also shared stories of living in Kuwait and Los Angeles. B and I were fascinated by her Kuwaiti/Lebanese/Hungarian heritage, so L brought out her laptop and began showing us photos.

“Dude,” I said, “these are beautiful pictures. You really need to get a flickr account and upload these.”

“I do have flickr!” she said. Oh, internet, how I love you. L went back to her room, and returned with her camera. She and I sat there scrolling through her photos, while R and B just shook their heads – especially when I started taking photos of the tea-glasses again.

B made fun of us: “Yasmine’s going to come to work one day and say, ‘I quit! I’m leaving to become a professional photographer!’ ”

She needs to stop giving me ideas.

This is the “six degrees of separation” version of finding Yasmine online, when it should have only been one degree

All-Star Crackstar Squad, Blogistan and the Wide World of Webs, Links to love, Rockstar and Crescent

Trying to be difficult
Trying to be difficult at the Berkeley Marina, originally uploaded by yaznotjaz

Yesterday morning, I checked my emails and found the following facebook message from my sister’s friend and classmate (this makes her my friend by default, too, I think). S wrote:

hooooly, lardki!

omg omg omg, i just discovered your mad photo hobby. ummmm, what?? you take photos?? so i found this link to muslim-a-day photos, right?? and then i was like, hey, i want to do this! so i was reading up on the contributors, right??? and then i was like, hey there is a link to someone’s photos! so i clicked the link and it took me to yaznotjaz’s flickr photos.. and i was lookin at it and i saw a picture that said “today i am 8” and i was like.. hey, that looks like it was taken at the marina and then lo and behold there was another photo that was OBVIOUSLY the marina, and i was like, hey, this person knows berkeley. and then i clicked on a photo of the photographer’s reflection, and i was like, hey, that looks like… like… omg… i know that wardrobe. and then there was a comment that said, oh, there’s another picture of my face ish, and i clicked it and i was like, HEY THAT’S YASMINE ______!! HOLLLY!!! hahahahah… so i just wanted you to know that i got a pleasant surprise and it’s all your fault. :) and your photos are exceptionally beautiful. yeah.. i think i have not left anything out.. so
salaam alaikum !

Wasn’t that great? Yes, indeed it was. As I was telling S, I couldn’t stop laughing to myself all day.

This is also an apposite time to encourage you all to stop by Muslim-A-Day, which has stunning photographs every single day. The project, a brainchild of the ever-creative HijabMan, strives to keep ignorance away by “debunking the myth of a Muslim Monolith.” On the About page, he writes:

The main thrust of Muslim-A-Day is simply to show the multiple facets of Muslims’ lives. The best ideas always seem to be the simplest ones, don’t they? Here we are, you and I, presented each day with images of Muslims as the enemy… the veiled, bearded, mysterious enemy that worships a God named Allah.

That’s where Muslim-A-Day enters. Muslim-A-Day aims to provide you with a photograph of a Muslim everyday. Here, you’ll find Muslims in all shapes, sizes, and colors. Some have piercings, some wear the veil, some are clean shaven, some are even Malaysian (Imagine that!). They all believe in Al-lah. Literal translation? The [One] God.

When the opportunities presented themselves, I captured the faces that touched me. I love to witness the reflection of the Divine in all that I experience; I love to make you a witness by posting these photos.

I added one photo back in February (it was taken during the ISNA conference in Chicago, and originally uploaded here). I really need to get on the ball. While I get my life together and try to be more diligent in uploading photos to flickr and elsewhere, why don’t you add some of your own? Muslim-A-Day is always looking for contributors. Also, stop by the website and check out the beautiful photos and say hello to everyone else who lurks around there.

Once more: Where it begins

Blogistan and the Wide World of Webs

Things to write in: ROCKING
Things to write in: ROCKING, originally uploaded by yaznotjaz.

I remember when I first switched from RamblingMonologues to SweepTheSunshine.v1 (as I have taken to calling it), one of my favorite blogistanis, Binje, groused, “Yazzo, only you would go from one loooooong weblog URL to yet another long weblog URL.”

So, here we go yet again – another switch, but with a shorter URL this time. I can’t even begin to tell you how exciting it is for me to type “sweepthesunshine.com” without my fingers tripping over the keyboard, attempting to type “blogspot” without screwing it up. Then again, I can’t even type my name half the time without misspelling it, so…

This whole switching-to-Wordpress drama would not have been made possible without the help of my buddy and Tech Support Rockstar Extraordinaire HijabMan, who put up with all my questions and issues and complaints with good humor. Clearly, I pick my friends really well.

When we virtually “sat down” at our respective ends of the country and rolled up our sleeves to get started on this drama, he first told me to go ahead and install WordPress. I said, “It asks me, ‘Please create a MySQL database for this software to use.’ Holy shit, what is THAT?”

Five minutes later, thanks to HijabMan, I had a MySQL database. One minute later, WordPress was installed. Hell, that was quick. “I’m still astounded we got even this far,” I pointed out at the end of it, “but that’s cuz I didn’t have to do anything.” Clearly, I am useless, but not totally! While my Tech Support Rockstar dealt with all the complicated background stuff, I managed to tackle the minutiae – things like: Formatting the blockquotes to my liking, resizing the columns, adding an entire section to the sidebar, fiddling with the flickr plugin formatting, changing the font size and search box font and footer colors, adding that slight gray border around my photos, and ten thousand other trivial things, because I am so obsessive-compulsive and stubbornly refused to fully inhabit this space until the design was to my liking (which is a perfectly normal stance, isn’t it?). I am also the worst dictator to work with, and if you tell me that you hate my small font sizes, I will say, “I hate you, so shut up,” and kindly invite you to increase the text size from within your own browser, thankyouverymuch.

Still, I am indebted to my buddy HMan, and this is saying a lot, considering he had the audacity to offer insights like, “Your [blogger] template right now is, umm, kinda ugly.” Vat BLASPHEMY. Also, if I hear him say, “Can I make a suggestion?” one more time, I think I will stab him.

In summary:

DotCom Pros
– Shorter URL
– BETTER COMMENTING SYSTEM! (Multiple exclamation points!!!! Remember when you had to spend a ridiculous amount of time, trying to submit comments through my Enetation system on the old sweepthesunshine? And then I had to spend a ridiculous amount of time deleting repeat comments, since Enetation has issues, pretty much. Basically, that time is over. Also, I hate the Blogger commenting system with a passion.)
– Three columns = better-organized weblog. Or something.
– [I can’t remember what else. I’m still too excited about the spiffy new commenting system.]

All my weblog archives (2003-2007) are still at SweepTheSunshine.v1, because I don’t, as yet, know how to transfer them over. (Thanks a lot, Blogger Beta, for making things so complicated.) If you know how I could do so without breaking anything, please share your expertise. I’m sure you’re much more technically proficient than I am. (There is this option, actually; I’m just too scared to touch it for now.)

Anyway, let me know how you like! If something’s screwy, or could be improved, tell me.

It’s looking really empty around here, I know. I promise real posts soon. Between work meetings/deadlines and the time left over for some small semblance of a social life, I have plenty of potential posts, but little time to actually write them.

Meanwhile, welcome to my new-and-improved sunshine space – we’ll have a high of 72 degrees F on Saturday, and a high of 78 on Sunday. (Seriously, we will, at least in the East Bay, where I live! I’m really excited about this, since I was this close to renaming my weblog STALK the Sunshine.)

In memory of Imran Saithna, rockstar extraordinare: Bleed the pen, burn the paper, dry those tears of eternal sorrow

Blogistan and the Wide World of Webs, Loss and laments and letting go


Courtyard of Lions, originally uploaded by Imran Saithna.

And we meet…
to depart,
And then depart –
Just to meet again. *

The problem with – and the beautiful gift of – the internet is that I always fall a little bit in love with everyone I interact with. I refer mainly to blogistan and flickr, since those are the two spaces I spend most of my time online and where I come across other bloggers, (b)lurkers, and photographers. Through weblog posts, flickr uploads, weblog comments, personal emails, simple flickr comments that somehow transform into lengthy, off-topic threads, and sometimes even “stalkerish” (I joke) and baffling facebook friend requests as a result of these two spaces, I marvel that we all become connected through such tenuous, fragile networks.

But, we do – we become connected through comments and story-telling and emails and instant messenger and photographs, and everyone becomes my friend, regardless of whether or not I know them offline. This is how I walk the world – the world which, for me, just as much includes these wires that connect us all together, as it does the “real-life” friends with whom I regularly coordinate hanging-out sessions in person.

Which is why it felt like a sucker-punch to the gut yesterday morning, when, in the midst of replying to emails and slurping down my breakfast cereal, I clicked over to my friend Zana‘s photostream and found one of her recent uploads dedicated In Loving Memory of Imran Saithna. I struggled to take a breath, eyes glued to the computer screen as I tried to take in the information. People who are 28 years old are not supposed to die. People who have just returned only a few short weeks ago from performing Hajj – the holy pilgrimage to Mecca, Saudi Arabia – are not supposed to die. People whom you’ve been meaning to email back within the next few days are not supposed to die before you reply to their messages.

Many thanks to Maliha, whose email I was in the midst of responding to when I clicked over to Zana’s photo, for her lovely note back, and to the beautiful Shaheen, who provided me some comfort as I raged, “It’s just so sucky when all the good people die. Why can’t God just take the fuck-ups instead?”

I met Imran Saithna through flickr, when he added me as a contact back in late 2005 and I reciprocated. He posted stunningly beautiful photos, and sometimes commented on mine – unfortunately, more often than I commented on his, in retrospect. You all know how good I am at these (b)lurking habits of mine.

When I posted my small photoset of Zaytuna Institute to flickr last spring, I was surprised by the number of people who took the time to comment on and appreciate the series of photos I had snapped on a whim one afternoon while waiting for my sister. Imran was one of those who commented, and our exchange made me realize how much we Muslims in the San Francisco Bay Area take for granted our proximity to Zaytuna and the spiritual goodness available there. I promised him I would post some more Zaytuna photos; he particularly requested shots of the grounds. In turn, I admired his photos of Spain, a place I have always wanted to visit.

In these last couple of days after hearing of Imran’s death, I’ve learned more about what he did than I ever knew when he was alive. As Project Manager of Muslimyouth.net, he was a passionate advocate for Britain’s first online support and guidance forum for Muslim youth. The website provides an open space for young Muslims to discuss issues which are relevant and important to them, without fear of censure or condemnation, and is part of the umbrella organization Muslim Youth Helpline, a confidential telephone and e-mail counseling service for young people. MYH understands well the effect of “the climate of fear, fury and media sensationalising” on the mental health of Muslim youth in Britain. The tribute to Imran on Muslimyouth.net lists in moving detail the various projects to which he had dedicated himself.

Under Imran’s creative and dedicated guidance muslimyouth.net flourished from a fledgling project into a thriving online community for Muslims across the UK and beyond. Much of this is a testament to Imran’s innovative and unique energy, drive and commitment to the cause.

A typical example of Imran’s maverick approach was exemplified in some of the campaigns that he ran on muslimyouth.net. Few will ever forget (especially the participants involved!) the Homelessness Campaign that ran on the site in April 2005. Imran and a group of volunteers spent a weekend on the streets of London with a budget of £3 to survive on. Crazy, unheard of and unorthodox –maybe. Pure Imran –absolutely! Behind the stunt however lay a desire to raise awareness amongst the Muslim community about issues that often get swept under the carpet. He led through example and took great care to ensure the safety and comfort of the volunteers who joined him on this experience.

This is my favorite comment-story about Imran, because the image in the first part made me laugh so much:

my best memory of Imran is the british 10K marathon in 2005. He ran the whole thing smoking marlboro reds and still beat me.

Imran touched the heart of almost every muslim youth in london.

There are many posts and comments about Imran all over the internet these days, it seems. I found one of the most poignant tributes on deenport, written by Yoshi Misdaq:

Then, a month or so ago, I went to a poetry event. I wasn’t scheduled to perform there, but I did. Imran was scheduled to perform, although I didn’t know it beforehand. And so, he did. I remember thinking that his poem went on a very long time. I thought it was a bit too much. But then, when I had that thought, I was caught up in the world. And when you’re caught up in the world, feeling worldly (not that you’re aware of it at the time) you forget about the bigger picture. Death is the only thing that could make me look back at events in this way. And so I did. I asked my friend (who was filming that night) to lend me the tapes earlier today. I watched Imran’s poem (the second, the last performance) again. And it was a miracle. Later that night, when I had told him how nervous I was to perform my poetry for the first time, and how calm he seemed, he corrected me, saying that he was doing all he could do stop from shaking. And so, this performance meant everything to him. That’s why it went on for so long that night. It was as if he were putting every single significant disappointment and feeling into that extended piece of rhyme. He was rinsing out this water-pain from his soul, taking it from every single angle, from every perspective. He felt it that night. And I felt it when I saw it again. After he had left Earth. Every other line of poetry was about death, the next world, the pains of this world. I could quote it at length. I just typed the whole thing up. I won’t do that though. To see his face again was a blessing. Some peoples eyes light up when they smile. Other people are always lit up, subtly.

[…] As I’ve said, Imran didn’t fit perfectly here. Others closer to him would no doubt have seen more worldly sides to him. For me though, he is now in the place he was so clearly destined to be in. The spirit-world. And I can’t help but fear for myself and those I love who do not have that odd way about us. Those of us who sometimes seem all too eager to get comfortable here in this filling-station called Earth. Selfishly, I feel fearful, because, in a way, God seems to have taken him so perfectly, after having just returned from Hajj. What more mercy could there be for him? And yet, what ambiguity and uncertainty there is for the rest of us. In the poetry event before he left, through his poems, he was purging himself. And, I will always believe the on the pilgrimage that followed, he discovered himself, nourished himself, filled in the holes and gaps. What he was meant to be, where he was meant to go. Within a few moments of hearing that news, and thinking about my encounters with this wonderful human, I knew it was meant to be. It was right. It was a story that God so clearly wrote.

While I spent winter of 2005 writing and writing and writing about the aftermath of the South Asian earthquake, Imran was one of those amazing people who jumped on a plane and went to help with earthquake relief efforts. He posted to flickr the photos from his time in Pakistan, and wrote about his relief-work experiences on his weblog; the BBC interviewed him, too, in a November 2005 story.

I went searching through my GMail account yesterday afternoon. As I expected, my last email exchange with Imran is marked with the all-important “must reply soon” yellow star and a red “Draft” note next to it. When I had neglected to upload photos to my flickr account for nearly two months, Imran emailed me in mid-December of last year to check in. He ended his email with “Fi amanillah [(Go) in God’s protection],” which made me smile. In my reply, I explained that I’m not much of a multi-tasker when it comes to writing and photography, so if I’m active on flickr, I tend to neglect the weblog, and if I write more often, then I stop uploading pictures consistently. I also wrote:

Just replied to your comment on my weblog post. Thank you for taking the time to stop by; it’s always nice to see the flickr folks over at the weblog, too. There isn’t much overlap; the flickr folks check out my photos and the blogistan folks check out my writing, but only a couple of people stop by both, as far as I know.

At the end of my email, I added, “I’m a big fan of other people who also say ‘fi amanillah.’ HIGHFIVE!”

He replied that he did indeed check out both the weblog and the flickr, a sentiment that was repeated again just recently, when he commented on my “Bethany” post that made us all laugh so much.

And he responded to my How goes the life with you? query by ending with:

Life with me is good, just really busy doing so many mad voluntary things in the local community here, am back in London for the time being as insha’Allah I will be flying out for the Hajj on Monday. Pray that my Hajj is accepted insha’Allah, and also let me know if you want me to bring you back anything from Saudi at all, it would be a pleasure.

Fi amanillah, Yasmine, take care and keep smiling so it can rub off on us all.

I remember staring at my computer, thinking, Bring me back something from Saudi? What a beautiful, incredibly generous offer. I decided I would send him the list of duas [prayers/supplications] I’d been emailing to all my friends who were leaving for Hajj. The most I could ask of anyone was that they add some prayers for me while in the holy cities.

My reply to his last email is still sitting in my Drafts folder. It begins simply, Wa alaikum assalam, Imran –, and then there is a bunch of empty white space, and his email below. The draft was saved on December 15th; by the time I remembered I still needed to send him my dua list two days later, he had already flown out for Hajj, and I figured I’d just save the reply and send it as a congratulatory email when he returned from the pilgrimage. I never did send it, obviously, and now I can’t even bring myself to click the “Discard” button.

I wish I had made time to reply to people’s comments on the weblog. I wish I had sent him another email, and commented more often to let him know how much I appreciate his beautiful photos and poetry. I didn’t understand at the time what he meant by “doing so many mad voluntary things,” but in the last couple of days of reading people’s reflections about Imran, I’ve come to understand what a truly generous, giving person he was – someone who, as Zana said, had all the time in the world for people less fortunate.

Last October, I had sent him a short email saying,

I randomly came across this today and thought of you, since you are such a Zaytuna fan:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/alhambrapro/

Eid mubarak! Hope you had a beautiful, blessed day inshaAllah!

At the end of his reply to me, he added:

Alhamdulillah, Eid was fantastic, probably one of the nicest, bestest and most rewarding Eids I’ve had in many years.

Yesterday, scrolling through Imran’s weblogs, I came across the post that began with a reflection on both his 2005 Eids, spent helping with earthquake relief efforts in the mountains of Kashmir; the post culminated in a description of the October 2006 Eid he had referred to in his email to me:

This year I was again away from home on the day of Eid. I found myself in a place where one might suspect there to be little reason or cause to celebrate anything except imminent release. However, I was overwhelmed at what proved to be one of the most remarkable days of my life.

I have been working on an ad-hoc basis out of HMP Wormwood Scrubs for the last 6 months or so, and although there are some genuinely pleasurable and memorable moments, in general it is one big reality check. A reminder of my long forgotten past, a chance to give something back to society and an opportunity to remember the Blessings of our Lord that fall upon us so abundantly that we can do nothing but take them for granted.

Every year is different, every Eid Allah puts before me another opportunity to atone for my sins. Only this year however, have I realised quite how lucky I am to be blessed and tested in this way.

Close your eyes and try to picture 200+ brothers in one room, smiling like they have never smiled before, eating as though they have never eaten before, greeting you so sincerely with the greeting of peace and hugging you as though you were a long lost relative.

The beautiful chanting of the Takbirs still resonate warmly in my ears, almost every conceivable nation was represented in that hall, and often I wonder if this was a tiny vision of what paradise might be times a million.

Who needs Zaytuna, when you’ve found the real deal, Imran? Paradise-times-a-million must be yours by now; how could He deny you that blessed entry?

There are many, many people who knew Imran far better than I did (a simple Google search pulls up dozens, if not hundreds, of recent weblog entries, forum posts, and comments and prayers dedicated to him and the work he did, all across the internet) – there is, for example, Zana, who still can’t bring herself to delete his number from her phone; there is Balal, his close friend and photography mentor, who wrote to me about his experiences knowing Imran; there is Daniel Abdal-Hayy Moore, with whom he shared his love for poetry. But even I, who knew him so briefly and barely, feel that I’ve lost someone whose kindness and generosity touched me enough that even I’m feeling heartbroken. When I struggled around the lump in my throat and cried hot tears for him yesterday, it was not because his life has ended, but because our own lives are a little bit emptier, having lost such a beautiful soul to accompany us through this world.

Mabrouk, ya Hajji! And rest in peace, my friend. When next we meet, I’ll tell you what it felt like for me to have – by then, God willing – finally seen Spain and the Alhambra in person, and you can describe for me what it must be like to sit in the Light of the Divine and see the Creator face-to-Face. I have no doubt that you will be one of the Illuminated. May the Lord, in His infinite mercy, grant you all that is good and pure and blessed – and an internet connection Up There, so that you can see, even through your infamous humility, how positively you’ve impacted and inspired all those of us you’ve left behind.

[Post title from a poem by Imran Saithna:

Forget the past, sleep the day,
Wake not for the dawn of tomorrow.

Bleed the pen, burn the paper,
Dry those tears of eternal sorrow.

Blind the eyes, pack full the ears,
Wipe the traces of that lonely smile.

Turn full-around, re-trace your steps,
and walk alone for a while.]

[Comments made in response to this entry may be found here, from when this piece was originally posted on sweepthesunshine.v1.]

Winter house-cleaning of my virtual home

Blogistan and the Wide World of Webs

Brick red
I admit to a weakness for red brick, originally uploaded by yaznotjaz.

Apropos of nothing, I have a new cell phone (a Motorola Razr in case you’re wondering, now that they’re not trendy anymore and are instead one of the most affordable phones in the T-Mobile store). Remember all the freakin’ drama I had to undergo over three years ago, just to find a decent phone that worked properly? Well, Motorola’s been good to me numerous times since then. The Razr has such lovely sound quality and clarity, I didn’t have to ask T to repeat himself even once while talking to him twice in two days (this is a new record for frequency of phone conversations, when it comes to me), even while I was wandering around my house, which has frustratingly horrid reception. Also, my new phone comes with a built-in camera. Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m about two years behind the times, but who needs a camera in her phone when she’s got a rocking digital camera? I mean, really now.

Speaking of years and time (which is the real point of this post, actually), today is the one year anniversary of Sweep the Sunshine (that means nearly FOUR years of blogging, rockstars. Can you believe it?), and once more I took it upon myself to fiddle around with stuff ’round here.

I’ve finally been granted the opportunity to switch over to Blogger beta, so I played around with my template a bit, adding labels [that’s “categories” to the rest of you] and fixing old permanent-links that still pointed back to good ol’ ramblingmonologues. Of course, I’ve realized that every time I edit and republish such old posts, they show up as new posts in my RSS feed (hello, Google Reader). Sorry, people.

The only template problem I’m having right now is that not all my posts categorized under each label are showing up on their respective label pages. Apparently, it only shows 20 posts under each label, because I refused to switch over to one of the new Layouts templates offered by Blogger beta and am thus missing some necessary piece of code.

Also, here’s a question I’ve been contemplating lately, while getting overly excited about things like labels/categories (features that non-blogspot users have had as default for ten thousand years already): Which is better, TypePad or WordPress? And why? Or, what do you like about either/both of them? I’ve been contemplating a switch lately, especially since my comments box is sometimes unpredictable and I hate the Blogger commenting system. Such drama. Clearly, I have issues with commitment and I like change (even though I know you all hate it).

Here’s a list of all my labels/categories, although they’re pretty self-explanatory [I just like making lists, unless they’re to-do lists]:

(3)BeautifulThings celebrates all the beautiful stuff I’d noted from any given day or week. A lot of it is in list format. The “3” is in parentheses because I only started the “three beautiful things” exercise recently.

All-Star Crackstar Squad: Friends and buddies and people I engage in hangingout sessions with. HIGHFIVE to my favorite crackstar 2Scoops for originally coming up with and using that phrase while commenting on Baji’s April 4th post [turn your permanent-links on, Baji!], after we hung out in Berkeley in late March2006. [Dude, I never wrote about that!]

Bibliothek means “library” in German. Books make me giddy like nothing else can.

Blogistan lists all posts related to blogger meetups or musings on blogging or Blogistan in general.

Casa420 and Familia: While “420” is my house number – and also code for marijuana, which is amusing if you consider my inexplicable fascination with all variations of the word “crack” – this label contains posts related to all various homes I’ve lived in, as well as posts about my immediate family and what I (lovingly) call the “soap opera drama family” (the relatives). I write about my father a lot. Here’s an introduction to my mother.

Conversations and Encounters – This is my favorite category (I forgot to label it as also including [disconcerting] eavesdropping sessions!), and, as such, I can’t help but recommend some of the older stuff to those of you who might have missed it the first time around. Since Blogger is being annoying and, as mentioned, only showing 20 posts from each label, here are some of my favorites from the total forty: There’s Lily from Borders, little Somiyya, the heartbreaking conversation with my friend Z about self-righteous Muslims and their haste in labeling others as “kaffir,” the Persian poet and student activist [two-and-a-half-years old now, this post about a few seemingly simple questions sparked 130+ comments], “Maria” the difficult workshop participant, the “state of mind” girl, traffic school Day One and Day Two, the Target girl to whom I was rude, the charity bell-ringing man at the grocery store, those annoying aunties at that one wedding, the adorable preschool kids to whom I used to read, the Jack Nicholson look-alike with the hard-hitting questions [this is still one of the most intimidating but thought-provoking conversations I’ve ever had], the man in the panama hat, Dennis the Menace, the girl I wanted to hurt [the comments on this post still make me laugh, especially in light of the previous post], and, finally, the drummer boy on the bike.

Glorious mundanity: Wherein I celebrate the trivial. Contains lists and paragraphs and lists masquerading as paragraphs.

Hit the Road: I spend too much time blasting music while driving in a car on the freeway.

Links to love from across this webbed world we inhabit.

Loss and laments and letting go: Because, contrary to popular opinion, not everything is about sunshine ’round here. I won’t pick out specific posts, but please do check the posts under that category, so you understand that even I’m capable of going through gloomy days.

NineToFive outside the 925: All posts that reference work – mainly my old jobs in downtown Sacramento and at university. I had the rockingest co-workers ever.

Rhymes and unrhymed lines: Anything related to poetry, mine or others’.

Rockstar and Crescent: Islam/Muslim-related posts.

Salaam Namaste: Posts dealing with being Desi/South Asian/Pakistani.

Suckool: There’s a reason why it’s spelled “stuDYING.” Other than that, university and I got along really well. As I mentioned to HijabMan lately: “Man, I miss college. It was rocking good times.” And then, as an afterthought: “Except for that taking-tests business.”

No matter who you vote for, the government always gets in

Blogistan and the Wide World of Webs, Rhymes and unrhymed lines

Wishing you much sunshine!
Wishing you much sunshine!, originally uploaded by yaznotjaz.

Nearly two years ago, I visited UC Berkeley for a conference and stopped to check out a workshop entitled, “WRITE OR BE WRITTEN: Using Spoken Word to Speak the Truth.” The workshop was lead by Junichi Semitsu, then-director of June Jordan‘s Poetry for the People course at UC Berkeley. After he had captivated us – and made us laugh – with his poem, Poetry Should Hijack the Bus (two years later, I still remember the reference to sports futility vehicles), Junichi introduced a few of the Poetry for the People TAs and students and invited them up to the podium to share their writing with us.

The other thing I remember about the workshop is that one of the young men ambled up to the podium and introduced his poem with a self-deprecating disclaimer that went something like this: I’m about to read a poem that I wrote very recently, so it’s not finalized just yet; it’s not the greatest, it’s still really, really rough, but here it is…

He then performed his piece, and no matter what he thought of it, the poem was amazingly beautiful. He was amazing up there, and when his final words fell into the otherwise pin-drop silence, we all stared after his retreating back as he took his seat, thinking, Wow.

The next thing I remember is Junichi back at the podium, looking around the room intently and saying something like this: You see what he just did? DON’T DO THAT. Never, ever downplay or undermine your words. Share what you have to say with people and let them make up their minds about it, but never brush off your stuff before they’ve even heard it.

I’ve kept that piece of advice in mind over the past couple of years, whether I was sharing my own poetry in gatherings, or organizing lectures and workshops, or participating in dialogues with the University chancellor, or even as recently as October, when I had to do quite a bit of public speaking for a work-related event. That last occasion was especially nerve-wracking, considering I’d been out of school for over a year and hadn’t done any sort of public speaking in nearly as long. Looking out over the hundreds of people gathered that evening, I was tempted to make smart-ass comments like, “I know I’m short; I hope you all can see me behind the podium,” and – after I accidentally disengaged the mic from the stand while adjusting it – “There’s a reason why I shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near technical equipment,” but I refrained and said only what I was up there to say. And people thought I rocked it, apparently. The end.

So, the reason why I’m spending so much time talking about disclaimers and smart-ass comments is because this here joint – that’s Sweep the Sunshine to you – has been nominated as “Best Female Blog” in the Brass Crescent Awards I mentioned recently, and I’ve put off telling you about it for so long because I’m an idiot and didn’t know what to say about it. Oh, also? Today is the deadline for voting.

Most people know I’m an idiot about compliments, namely, I don’t know how to accept them (yeah, remember the last time we went through this drama of weblog voting?). I’ve always thought of self-deprecation as an indispensable quality, so when people say, for example, “Hey, I like your shoes,” I feel the need to admit, “Oh, I bought ’em used, for $5 from Goodwill”; and when people say, “I like your style,” I reply, “I’m wearing four layers. Pretty stupid, huh?”; and when people say, “Your headwraps are so awesome,” I smirk and reply, “Wait ’til you see my hijab tan line”; and when people say, “Nice jeans!” I frown darkly, “They’re not flared enough, dammit.” Basically, I’ve just wasted an entire paragraph talking about my clothes, but I think you get the point.

As Somayya would succinctly call me out on my protestations: “That’s BULLSHIT.”

So, I guess all I should say in response to that is, Hey! Go vote! (For whomever you want to!)

Also, I am honored and flattered and all that good stuff. Thank you so much to whoever nominated me. You are awesome.

Finally, I’ve discovered a number of rocking weblogs through the Brass Crescent Awards, so if you’re looking for new reading material, stop by their website. But you might as well vote, too. Voting is good for you. Get to it, rockstars!

[Ignore the title. And the photo. Neither of them really has anything to do with the Brass Crescent awards, but the title of the post (which is actually a song title) made me laugh, and the photo made me smile today because I just found it again while browsing through flickr, having forgotten I had taken it. If yummy orange sunshine in December isn’t quite your thing, I just don’t know what to do with you.]

Because I know you like voting and weblogs and voting for weblogs

Blogistan and the Wide World of Webs, Rockstar and Crescent

Pencil in that patriotic profundity
Pencil in that patriotic profundity, originally uploaded by yaznotjaz.

I forgot to share with you all a rocking weblog I came across during Ramadan: MUSLIM FOR A MONTH.

And – hey look, kids, you were supposed to be nominating submissions for the annual Brass Crescent awards! The deadline is Friday, November 17, 2006 (yes, tomorrow). Obviously, if there’s anything I’ve taught you in nearly four years, it’s how to be a procrastinator extraordinaire.

The categories are:

– Best Blog
– Best Non-Muslim Blog
– Best Design
– Best Post or Series
– Best Ijtihad
– Best Female Blog
– Best Thinker
– Most Deserving of Wider Recognition
– Best Group Blog
– Best Middle-East/Asian Blogger

Check out Brass Crescent for a detailed explanation of each of the categories. You don’t have to be Muslim in order to vote, it seems. altmuslim and City of Brass are ineligible for nomination. However:

With the exceptions noted on this site, any blog is eligible for any category, including blogs authored by non-muslims. In defining the Islamsphere, we are not relying solely on adherence to the faith, but an affinity for parts of the diverse cultural fabric that Islam embraces and is embraced by worldwide. [link]

Get to it. To quote flickr, it’s just like the electoral experience, minus the cool stickers. (Speaking of stickers, they gave me four “I Voted” stickers on November 7th. FOUR. Clearly, I’m a rockstar about voting.)

Three Things (plus three more)

(3)BeautifulThings, Blogistan and the Wide World of Webs, NineToFive outside the 925

Sunlight shadows on the sidewalk, Friday afternoon
Sunlight shadows on the sidewalk, Friday afternoon, originally uploaded by yaznotjaz.

This afternoon, after clicking over to Blogger.com and pausing before signing in (believe it or not, this is something I do often: I decide I want to update this weblog, I click over to Blogger, and then I just stop, overcome by a feeling of overwhelming helplessness: Where do I even begin? – too many stories to share, and, clearly, I think too much and thus end up writing and sharing nothing)…so, anyway, in the few moments today as my fingers hovered restlessly over the mouse and I debated yet again whether or not to sign into Blogger, I discovered my new favorite weblog: it’s one in the list of current Blogs of Note, and entitled Three Beautiful Things. Someone named Spitfire left a lovely comment there that summed up the entire premise of the Three Beautiful Things weblog:

The natural, simple happiness of the commonplace things is subtle and beautiful, and yet it requires a well-trained eye to appreciate it.
Those who find in the small details the true reason for being alive are to be praised. The search for sources of authentic smiles is a difficult, but noble and delightful activity.

And as Clare herself of Three Beautiful Things notes:

The thing about 3BT is, it’s not that my life is particularly beautiful (although I know as a single woman living in England in 2007, I have a lot to be thankful for) but that I find myself constantly on the look-out for beautiful things.

Leaving work at 5.30pm today, I swung the front door shut behind me, and something about the late afternoon light made me stop dead in my tracks. Seconds later, my bag hit the ground and I was kneeling on the walkway, camera in hand, snapping photos of the sunlight on the grass. When I’d decided a dozen photos was more than enough, I stood up, brushed off my knees, and, before turning away to head back to my car, I stopped and aimed one final, level glance at the shadows, thinking, I have to remember this moment so I can write about it later.

So, because I am nothing if not a proponent of celebrating the mundane (and a lover of the word beautiful), I’ve decided I’m going to try this three beautiful things exercise myself, in order to get myself back into the swing of writing regularly. Perhaps (I’m pretty sure) I’ll end up recording more than three things at a time, but the point – for me – is to just write. Simple, seemingly mundane things would be a good start, because in the last few months I’ve become so overwhelmed by what I haven’t written that it’s been difficult to get myself out of this blogging backlog and actually write.

I’m aiming to try this everyday. Ambitious, I know, but I’ve got to start somewhere. And because I’ve missed Blogistan comment-box conversations with my fellow bloggers and blurkers [blog+lurkers] so much, you are more than welcome to add your own three-things to the comments.

So, here’s my Friday: Things that made me smile, in numerical form. One, two, three, GO.

1. The way the late afternoon sunlight and shadows slant across the sidewalk. [See photo above. It took me far too long to decide which photo to post; they’re all so sunshine-y beautiful and make me especially happy because this past week has been all about the rain.]

2. Organizing a conference call for work – and having it go off without a hitch – and crossing everything off Page One of my four-page project plan. (I love the strikethrough function! Pages 2-4 must be completed during this upcoming week, though. Gross.)

3. GMail chat conversation with HijabMan about how he’s planning on flying notes around his office. The mental image made me laugh, and what’s even funnier is that I can imagine my co-worker/buddy B and I doing the same.

4. Phone conversations spent remembering karaoke with old co-workers, back in the good ol’ downtown Sacramento days.

5. Accolades –
HijabMan: “Wow, how did you get so lucky…? Dude, you are so a rockstar.”
Yasmine: “Because they love me!”
HijabMan: “I’ve never heard you say something so…self-centered.”

6. Quick GMail chat conversation with the buddy Z about how, as children, we used to light things on fire, which inexplicably ends with him exclaiming, “You, sire, are a DILETTANTE.”

Three Things (plus three more)

(3)BeautifulThings, Blogistan and the Wide World of Webs, NineToFive outside the 925

Sunlight shadows on the sidewalk, Friday afternoon
Sunlight shadows on the sidewalk, Friday afternoon, originally uploaded by yaznotjaz.

This afternoon, after clicking over to Blogger.com and pausing before signing in (believe it or not, this is something I do often: I decide I want to update this weblog, I click over to Blogger, and then I just stop, overcome by a feeling of overwhelming helplessness: Where do I even begin? – too many stories to share, and, clearly, I think too much and thus end up writing and sharing nothing)…so, anyway, in the few moments today as my fingers hovered restlessly over the mouse and I debated yet again whether or not to sign into Blogger, I discovered my new favorite weblog: it’s one in the list of current Blogs of Note, and entitled Three Beautiful Things. Someone named Spitfire left a lovely comment there that summed up the entire premise of the Three Beautiful Things weblog:

The natural, simple happiness of the commonplace things is subtle and beautiful, and yet it requires a well-trained eye to appreciate it.
Those who find in the small details the true reason for being alive are to be praised. The search for sources of authentic smiles is a difficult, but noble and delightful activity.

And as Clare herself of Three Beautiful Things notes:

The thing about 3BT is, it’s not that my life is particularly beautiful (although I know as a single woman living in England in 2007, I have a lot to be thankful for) but that I find myself constantly on the look-out for beautiful things.

Leaving work at 5.30pm today, I swung the front door shut behind me, and something about the late afternoon light made me stop dead in my tracks. Seconds later, my bag hit the ground and I was kneeling on the walkway, camera in hand, snapping photos of the sunlight on the grass. When I’d decided a dozen photos was more than enough, I stood up, brushed off my knees, and, before turning away to head back to my car, I stopped and aimed one final, level glance at the shadows, thinking, I have to remember this moment so I can write about it later.

So, because I am nothing if not a proponent of celebrating the mundane (and a lover of the word beautiful), I’ve decided I’m going to try this three beautiful things exercise myself, in order to get myself back into the swing of writing regularly. Perhaps (I’m pretty sure) I’ll end up recording more than three things at a time, but the point – for me – is to just write. Simple, seemingly mundane things would be a good start, because in the last few months I’ve become so overwhelmed by what I haven’t written that it’s been difficult to get myself out of this blogging backlog and actually write.

I’m aiming to try this everyday. Ambitious, I know, but I’ve got to start somewhere. And because I’ve missed Blogistan comment-box conversations with my fellow bloggers and blurkers [blog+lurkers] so much, you are more than welcome to add your own three-things to the comments.

So, here’s my Friday: Things that made me smile, in numerical form. One, two, three, GO.

1. The way the late afternoon sunlight and shadows slant across the sidewalk. [See photo above. It took me far too long to decide which photo to post; they’re all so sunshine-y beautiful and make me especially happy because this past week has been all about the rain.]

2. Organizing a conference call for work – and having it go off without a hitch – and crossing everything off Page One of my four-page project plan. (I love the strikethrough function! Pages 2-4 must be completed during this upcoming week, though. Gross.)

3. GMail chat conversation with HijabMan about how he’s planning on flying notes around his office. The mental image made me laugh, and what’s even funnier is that I can imagine my co-worker/buddy B and I doing the same.

4. Phone conversations spent remembering karaoke with old co-workers, back in the good ol’ downtown Sacramento days.

5. Accolades –
HijabMan: “Wow, how did you get so lucky…? Dude, you are so a rockstar.”
Yasmine: “Because they love me!”
HijabMan: “I’ve never heard you say something so…self-centered.”

6. Quick GMail chat conversation with the buddy Z about how, as children, we used to light things on fire, which inexplicably ends with him exclaiming, “You, sire, are a DILETTANTE.”