After applying to 74 jobs at G's school, 29 at the school I was temping at, and exactly 100 jobs on craigslist, I FINALLY have a job! I start tomorrow. I got an admin assistant position at the grad school at G's school. I have health insurance (soon)! Paid time off! Paid sick days! School holidays off (spring break, winter break, etc)! And it's all within a 5 minute walk from the apartment. Finally. A huge weight has lifted off my shoulders.

Last Friday my mom texted me and said she was coming to visit. I gave her the address of a friend of mine who just moved to DC to shut her up when I first came here, and lately she's been calling G constantly, as well as a few friends of mine. Where'd she get their numbers? She went through my phone a year ago. But she's been bothering everyone and finally she said she was coming to visit so I basically had to bully her out of it. She responded with one last text message, a phrase in Arabic that basically said that I'd see her next at her funeral. Not nice but whatever. On the Wednesday before that, I dropped $94 on an edible arrangements basket. I thought it would be a nice gesture. I specifically scheduled it to be delivered on Saturday so that they'd be home to get it. It was successfully delivered and they didnt' acknowledge it at all. Oh well I guess.

We worked a gun show in Waco this past weekend. T-shirt of the show: "Bush: Love him or hate him, he killed a ton of Arabs." Thanks, jackass. A dealer at the show was talking to G's mom about how he left his wallet in the bathroom, and opened his story with: "I was going into the bathroom to take an Obama..." Classy, classy people.

First day tomorrow!

Hey there

Long time no post I suppose. I'll make a list.

1. Three gun shows in a row for the next three weekends. Should be interesting. I'll do my best to post but frankly I've lost all motivation for everything so I'll try.

2. Work. I'm still with this crap temp thing but I've had two interviews in the past. One, I never heard back from at all, at the same school I'm working at now. The second, with this book distributor about an hour away that needed an Arabic language person. I interviewed and was, in fact, offered the job, but I turned it down. It paid less than what I'm doing now, but there would be an added expense--gas. A 2 hour commute each way in rush hour, a lot of work and responsibility, and working with Arabs and my boss who was pretty much exactly like my dad--he lectured all the time, would ask me questions and then talk over me when I tried to answer, on and on. So, I passed it up. I have an interview on Tuesday at a big company where I'm slightly optimistic, considering I was chosen out of what I assume are many resumes online, so we'll see.

3. My dad has been emailing me really rude emails about how I don't have a heart or a conscience or whatever, and I get his point, but it just pisses me off. I don't want to talk to someone who still belittles me. Enough of that. My mom called one of my very good friends and left her a voicemail. It's getting a little stressful. I just want some peace and quiet but I fully 100% intend to reconnect and talk with them, just not now.

4. Living with G is a little better, and it's getting better, but still there are issues of pace and absent-mindedness. He's just so laid back about EVERYTHING and it drives me insane. Take something a little seriously, please.

5. Boris, the cat. Still has ringworm but guess who else has it too? Yeah. Gross and also really hilarious. It's pretty much gone though, I bought some cream for it at CVS and so that's okay. Certainly cheaper than going to the doctor without insurance. He sleeps in our bed and so it was inevitable.

I have followers and comments on here from people I don't know, which is interesting and also really drives me crazy because I want to know who the hell you are! Oh well though, I suppose this is the downfall of being a wildly popular blogger (not).

I am smoking too many cigarettes and I assume I have a problem with that. The Arab in me is coming out in full force I suppose. Gross though. I kind of hate myself for that but G smokes so even if I didn't want to, it would still be here in front of me.

I guess that's it for now. Hope you're all doing well.

New Year

G and I adopted a cat. Boris Moscowitz. G came up with a story (admittedly while under the influence) about Boris' background--his grandfather was a stow-away cat on a ship that came through Ellis Island. He supported his wife and three sons by shining shoes on the streets of Brooklyn. Boris' father, Yuri, made the family rich through investment banking, and would have had a lot of issues with Wall Street's recent fall but he was smart and put away a lot and so they're okay for now. This cat is hilarious. He has an amazing personality. I'm in love :)

The Jewish new year is this weekend and G first wanted to go to his usual temple, a reform temple, but decided that it wasn't "traditional enough" and so now we're going to Saturday morning services at a conservative temple, and to be honest I'm nervous. I'm wearing a black dress, black pantyhose (hah) and black shoes. I'm nervous because I HATE ritualistic traditional things like this, and sitting through 2 hours of conservative Jewish stuff doesn't sound appealing to me. Buuut it's important to him so I'll try. And I'm gonna bake challah hahaha. I'm personally a big fan and it's an appropriate occasion so there we go.

The job market seems to be working out for my friends, but I'm still having issues. I've had a couple of interviews that haven't led to anything, and a couple of scams as well, but otherwise I'm just saturating the market with my resume and getting ignored. I'm trying to stay optimistic though. But I've been sick lately and I've missed two days of work this week already, which is a problem since I get paid hourly and it adds up quickly. But a friend of mine in Seattle started writing for a start-up news-blog/service/thing and threw my name out there so I'll give it a shot. I'm not sure what to write about though. She suggested sending in this blog but I'm not sure. I'd write about the Middle East and throw out my opinions there but I don't want to alienate anyone or be too controversial from the start. I should be doing that now but instead I'm doing this. My facebook has a lot of stories and commentary, maybe I could do a huffpost kinda thing. I don't know. I haven't been too inspired lately, which is sad. I have all these books I want to read but I lose interest right away.

I've been sick lately. I can't seem to eat anything without getting nauseous (no, I am not pregnant). My sinuses hurt, I have constant headaches, and I just feel like crap. I'd like to go get checked out but I can't really afford it at this point. Hopefully it won't kill me. It's making me miss work though. There's a woman with MS who works there and I'd rather not contribute to her demise. The office is so negative and unpleasant though, maybe that's what's making me sick. It's such a terrible environment there. There was a huge shake-up last week, and the director and VP of our department got fired, and now the IT department, who I technically work for, is in charge, so I'm slightly optimistic that they'll pull some strings and buy out my contract from the temp agency. They've been hinting at it. Of course, I could just be making up all these signs and they'll let me go as scheduled. I don't know. I'm just trying to make it paycheck to paycheck. Student loans are coming up though.

Overall though I think things are going well. We've settled into a routine. It's already mid-September, which is insane. Time is moving so quickly.

hah

i decided to use the career center to help me out in the job search. i searched dallas and 50 miles around it. that was the only specification entered. this was the only result.

My two best friends, guilt and obligation, have returned

For the past couple days I've been feeling kinda guilty about this whole situation and how it's affected each person of my family, but this morning I was greeted with a lovely email that kind of eliminated that, but still made me feel like shit. As a result, with 12 days left until unemployment, I've called in and crawled back into bed.

My father the attorney sent me this long, rigid, contract-like email, numbered and bullet-ed about how wrong I am for doing this. When my mom contacts me--and we've been a little in touch lately--it's pretty much always, "Hi, how are you, I miss you, I want to hear how you're doing." It's nice and friendly and it encourages me to respond. Not this email. It was impersonal and just full of negative things and very clinical. I will attach some of my favorite parts.

1 – “Teens” run away because they either live in “abusive” homes or they are bad.

However,

2 – “Adult” family members will always argue & disagree on many issues but they do not walk away from their families and stop speaking with them. This is true in every culture, society and religion.

Your actions do not qualify under either (1) or (2) above.

The quotes piss me off. This is how he opened the email. What the fuck is that?? You're not writing a contract, you're not sending a business email, you're writing to your daughter who you apparently want to get in touch with again and this is how you open? Point two is a good point but he's so cold about it, shit. So, skipping a couple of stupid sentences not worth your time, he continues with this:

Let me tell you how I see things & I am sure you have enough brains to understand:

Well isn't it nice that he's sure I have enough brains to understand. I'm pretty sure he's translating this directly from an Arabic phrase he likes to use a lot, and quite a bit gets lost in translation, but his patronizing intent gets through perfectly in either language. He then goes on to list, in bullets and sub-bullets, all the points he has to address and why I shouldn't be so grateful that he's outlined my life and how I'm insane to not follow his path.

• Abuse: his point: I wasn't abused. Yeah, I know. So I should be grateful that I wasn't abused, which is true, but in my opinion, pointing out that I wasn't abused shouldn't really be a thing to point out in the first place.
  
• Marriage: I wasn't forced to get married. Again, not even a question in my mind, and that he has to point that out shows a huge cultural gap that I didn't realize was this big.
• Religion: I wasn't asked/forced to wear religious clothing. Super. Because obviously I'm a very observant, religious person so that's a consideration. Or hell, it's not like HE'S a religious person either. I don't know how religious he could be or how he could even ask me to wear "religious clothing" if he enjoys whiskey on the rocks fairly often.
  
• Money: I wasn't asked to pay for anything. Except that each time I went out with my sisters, to see a movie or eat somewhere or go shopping, I paid for it. I don't mind it but it's something both of my parents tend to forget. Or the fact that I paid for all of my own expenses. I lived in their house for free, yeah, but any time I left and bought something, it was from my own money. This is also something they forget. I'm not complaining about it because I would have felt terrible asking them for money each time I left the house, but I think it's a significant thing.
  
• Education: "If you remember, I suggested you save ALL your salary for a whole year and then go to a law school of your choice." Except that I've mentioned SEVERAL times that I don't want to go to law school. But hey who cares about that.
• Career: He's offered to pull some strings in the ME and get me a job there. Because I really want to go live there. And when I turned it down he got personally offended.
  

This is how he does things. I don't appreciate it. It doesn't make me any more eager to get in touch with them. If anything, it just pushes me away more, and now that I think about it, it makes me more angry and resentful than before. He hasn't changed. He hasn't even pretended. He still talks to me this way even after I've left. So screw it. I can't decide if I want to respond with a rebuttal or just leave it alone. I'll have to think about it.

But in the meantime this email has made me chain smoke a bunch of cigarettes too early in the morning. Because I wasn't getting more and more tempted to smoke cigarettes as it is, I got a lovely excuse to have too many too early. My smoking habits are making me dislike myself. The apartment smells like cigarette smoke and marijuana. I won't be passing any drug tests any time soon.

I never read horoscopes (really!) but they're automatically generated on the bottom of my home page and this is what it says for this week:

At the start of the week, I promised you that life with improve as the week unfolds. Hopefully you can already feel this. There was a nasty Mars/Saturn link which is now over. In the next 24 hours, Mars will link next to Jupiter, the planet of good fortune and good luck. As you can imagine, this brings us all the promise of some kind of heavenly boost. For you as a TAURUS, this is taking place in your 10th House of Career. It suggests that one of your professional dreams is about to get a much improved chance of coming true. Good luck!

I've been working this shit temp job for about 6ish weeks now and it just gets worse and worse. I've never had a work environment like this before. In the time I've been here, people still don't know my name. One of the guys working here yelled at us (temps) across the room yesterday, "Is one of y'all's name Valerie?" No. It's not. We've been CONSTANTLY doing their work for 6 weeks, even things we shouldn't be doing, like their own personal projects, and yet they still don't know our names. People literally walk up to us every day and hand us things to do. Learn my name dammit.

There are 3 of us temps and one is gone; she quit today. This woman could not mention Barack Obama without somehow mentioning the Nazis or Hitler in the same sentence. She apparently had TWO interviews yesterday and was offered a job today so off she goes. I've applied to hundreds of jobs and have nothing. Frankly, I don't get that.

There's some huge project happening here in the next couple of weeks and I've been volunteered to to help out on the 1st, working from 7:30am to 4pm. The woman coordinating the whole thing (let's call her Suzie) comes up to our floor today to hand us the schedules. It should have been me and the other girl, but since she quit today, Suzie had to find a replacement. Her reaction when she found out the other woman quit? "Boo! Good for her but boo!" She then walks up to me, hands me my schedule, and says, "I hope you don't get a job soon too!"

Thanks, bitch. Seriously? Who says that? And no, she wasn't joking. And as if that weren't bad enough, I had to make a run to her floor to talk to someone else and she saw me and assumed that I was there to talk to her--"No! Don't tell me you got a job!"

G's mom pulled some strings and talked to some friends and I have an interview for a receptionist position Monday morning. After all of this I'm losing hope. I want to be optimistic but I don't fucking know.

A part of me is happy that I'm not the only one in this sort of rut. Everyone I've talked to is either unemployed or working a shit job and unhappy. The transition is rough.

I hope I don't get stuck in a receptionist/admin assistant career path. What a waste.

There's another gun show next weekend and G's parents have been mumbling about promoting me from door-sitter to cashier, which means I'll get to interact with every crazy who walks through the door. That should provide for some interesting experiences.

I am seriously considering going to grad school and somehow turning my gun show observations into some sort of dissertation. I'm not sure what I'll write about the gun show people just yet, but I feel like it could be a unique paper. Either way I need to go to school again because it's better than all this.

Jobs I have Applied to

I've applied at:

UNT: 47 applications. Admin assistant, secretary, etc. All of these resumes were customized for each individual position, highlighting my experiences that were specifically mentioned in the job posting. Call-backs: 1.

TWU: 23 applications. Secretary, course evaluator, etc. Again, resume was customized. Call-backs: 0.

UT Arlington: 4 applications. Same as above, no call-backs.

Cragislist: Over 100 applications. The temp position I have now came of that. Otherwise, no call-backs.

Grocery stores: Kroger, Albertsons, Brookshires, The Cupboard. I did this yesterday so I haven't heard back yet.

Restaurants: Applebee's, Chili's. Will turn these apps in tomorrow.

My degree has clearly been a useful tool.

Cohabitiation Issues

Overall living together has gone relatively smoothly, but there are some things we need to work on. We're having a couple issues.

1. Sleeping patterns. G is still a student and so it doesn't matter if it's 11pm Sunday night. He doesn't have anything the next morning, so why not stay up? I, on the other hand, have to work. And the apartment is tiny so even if I go to bed, I can hear pretty much everything that goes on, and I'm a light enough sleeper as it is so this is a problem.

2. Money. I'm working and he's not. He's searching but it's not easy to find a job so we're having some issues with that. It's stressful.

3. Drinking and smoking. We all know that I'm a big fan of drinking (currently working on a bottle of wine right now), but I don't ALWAYS do it and he does. If he has some cash, it goes to beer. And cigarettes. And I'm starting to enjoy the cigarettes so I'm worried. Bars here have smoking indoors so we go out, drink cheap drinks, and chain-smoke.

4. Laundry. He doesn't do it. Men are strange.

5. Cleaning. Same as the laundry, although to be fair, he's been doing dishes while I'm at work and tidying up a bit so I can't complain toooo much.

6. Pace. This is the biggest problem. We have different paces. I say I'll do dishes and I get up and do them right away. He says he'll do dishes and it takes a few hours. You have no idea how frustrating this is. It affects EVERYTHING. It drives me crazy.

Signs of the apocalypse #52, A and B

A. I said "ya'll."

Co-worker: I'd like my husband and son to come up for lunch sometime and eat with me.
Me: Yeah, ya'll can go eat somewhere or just stay here.

B. Every time I go out, I chain-smoke. Quite a bit. Last night we went to a blues club and I was chain-smoking and chain-drinking the whole night. And I like it.

Working at the gun show, or--this really is a different country

G's parents run the oldest gun show in town and in the last show I helped by staying at their place and babysitting the dogs. This time they had me at the actual show. I sat by the exit with a table, stamp, and some postcards. My job was to stamp the hands of the people who wanted to come back in later that day. All thrilling and exciting.

It turns out, one of the men who's had a table at the show for years and years isn't too fond of Jews, and was overheard making fun of a German guy by pointing out his [people's] weakness: "Hitler didn't finish the job." He isn't aware that G and his family are Jewish. This same man keeps calling G Mohammad, and said to his mother that her son is "fixin' to be an A-rab." Not only that, but G's "lady friend looks like an A-rab" as well. And it was confirmed--I am an Arab and a Muslim (technically), and G's mom told him that. And he said (direct quote): "You know her bible tells her to cut his head off right?"

So G and I take a break at the gun show and walk over to his table, holding hands and being obnoxious. First thing he says--Hi Mohammad. Then he looks at me: Are you from Pakistan? (I thought I was an A-rab?) I say no, so he asks if I'm from Tajikistan. Then he asks where my burqa is. And then he asks G when he's going to convert. You know she's supposed to cut off your head right? On and on. He says that we should both be Christian. No thanks.

G was stationed at the front door of the gun show and throughout, we were texting each other. Towards the end of the first day, he lets me know that a couple walked in with matching his-and-hers swastika tattoos on their calves, with the guy wearing a cap that had a HUGE black swastika on the back and the Nazi eagle on the front. So they weave through the tables and are approaching me in the back. At this point, G comes over and stands with me, along with a family friend. We're just looking at them, watching them approach, and the woman turns to her boyfriend and whispers something and they keep walking. This happens a couple times and when they finally get to us she turns and says, "Do ya'll want a picture of my tattoo? Cuz you can have one if you want." And she stomps off.

The second day wasn't nearly as eventful. At the end of the first day the old man approached me and asked if I was from Africa, so I told him that if he wanted to talk about A-rabs he should know what they ARE first. And the next day he called G by his proper name and called me Fatima. And that was the extent of the excitement for Sunday.

I am not in CA anymore. Sheesh.

In other news, I still do not have a permanent job. I am constantly applying. There was an admin position open at a medical center here, and when I called to inquire the HR woman told me that she's had over 100 applicants. It's not looking good.

My mom emailed me and wanted me to be in touch. She sounded very sad. So I responded to her email. And? NOTHING. Not a single response from her. Frankly, it really upsets me. Why call and email if when I finally respond, nothing? What's the deal there?

It's August. I've been here for officially over a month. I have a shit job, a decent apartment, and a good roommate. And a dog (I am a cat person).

My biggest issue at this point is money and finding a permanent job. I've done a TON of searching but no luck so I don't know what to do. I'm applying to some local independent bookstores as well. I feel like that could be fun, and I wouldn't be sitting on my ass all day in front of a computer. At the same time, my pride kicks in and reminds me that I have a degree from a damn good school so I shouldn't be working bookstores. Either way, there really isn't room to be picky at this point. I have bills. Last weekend I helped G's parents at their gun show (hahaha) and made quite a bit for the weekend, and there's another next weekend, so it's alright. I'm living paycheck to paycheck and I need to learn how to control my spending. And anyway, if I do end up at a bookstore for less than I'm making now (minimum wage in this state is cringe-worthy), at least I'll have the comfort of knowing that something will come in every two weeks. This job ends in September and that makes me nervous.

I'm still avoiding my parents calls and voice mails--deleting them right away. I do feel guilty. I've planned four different emails in my head but I have to actually DO it.

I've made a friend. It's a PATHETIC sentence to say but tonight I went out for movies and drinks with someone from work. I absolutely could not afford it but I didn't want to pass up the opportunity. She also brought me all of her U2 albums--just about their entire collection, minus one or two albums. I am thrilled beyond belief.

What should I say? I still feel like this is surreal. An entire month has passed. It went by both quickly and slowly; so many things happen during the days but at the same time I feel like I'm not doing anything productive at all. I want to go back to school. I belong in school. This working fulltime thing is not for me.

Living together has been surprisingly easy. We have tiffs about doing dishes and where to leave the laundry. The apartment for some reason is falling apart though. Now the dryer isn't working. We put in a load yesterday and ran the machine, and the clothes were still wet. So, we did it again, and the clothes were still wet. We've called the management and hopefully they'll just replace both the washer and dryer. They mentioned doing that earlier when the washer flooded, so maybe this will be it.

Anyway. Job hunt--biggest worry at this point. Goddamn economy.

bit of a recap

I suppose it's time for an update. I can't believe it's only been about three weeks. It feels like much longer.

I was offered a temporary data-entry position about 5 minutes away from the apartment. I work full-time during the week, and the job will go through to September. It's tedious, boring, and the permanent workers obviously don't want us (the temps, 4) there. I've never had an unpleasant work experience before, but the other temps are great and it pays well, so it's all good with me.

G is finally back and we're adjusting to our routine. The refrigerator was finally replaced about a week ago, Friday, and it's amazing how the smell immediately disappeared. We now have groceries and a fridge and a place that doesn't smell. The washing machine is also fixed, and we can do laundry. The carpet people came in and replaced the foam underneath, but they have yet to stretch the carpet fully out to the wall--there's about 2 inches of exposed floorboards under there but all in all it's an extremely minor problem. I'll call them Monday and remind them.

My dad has emailed and called, and my mom occasionally texts and calls me. They leave voicemails but I delete them right away. I just don't want to deal with it. They're being really nice but my dad is still working with the guilt and pressuring me to come home. I can't imagine being there again like I used to. It's still really strange for me to go out or do anything without having to give a huge heads-up to them. My sister randomly texts me, and that's the strangest thing, since she and I had a falling out on Christmas and didn't speak. I have a suspicion that my parents tell her to message me. I respond to some text messages but I don't answer calls. I still need time to adjust and figure out what I want to say to them. I feel bad when they call but I can't bring myself to answer just yet.

I can't believe how hard it is to find work. It seems like if you don't know someone, you won't get hired. I'm going to get in touch with the alumni chapter here and see if they can do something for me. I'm also thinking about getting my teaching certification. According to some people I've talked to, it's not hard to get after you have a degree, so I'm planning on doing some research and figuring that out. If anything, I can substitute teach--my substitute teachers always just played movies. I've applied to the county and the two universities in town; I constantly apply to things on craigslist; I'm thinking of seeing a staffing agency. Do you have any ideas for where else I could look? The job market is very discouraging.

The lack of diversity here is depressing. Coming from the Bay Area, I'm shocked at the lack of different people. This is a college town too, so I don't know what explains it. Maybe once school starts up, it will change. The food isn't as interesting either--I'm having a very hard time finding good Asian food. I'm going to try and be a little more healthy, because I sit at the desk all day working, and this isn't a path I want to go down. All of my coworkers are obese and are always drinking soda and eating at the desk, and I've found myself drinking sodas during the day now too. I've never had soda, it used to be once or twice a month if that, and now it's becoming a regular thing, so I want to be more careful. Maybe I'll walk the dog every night after work, just to get moving.

I did find a really interesting cafe that's on the way to work. It's really quirky and seems completely out of place here. The cafe tables outside are populated by old men who show up at opening, 6am, order coffee, and put out a label on the tables: "Reserved for murder's row." The guys behind the counter have earrings and tattoos and look and talk and act like the people in Davis. It gives me a bit of hope.

I don't know how to make friends outside of classes. I'm trying to meet people at work but they're all at least 10 years older than me. G's friends are nice but they're all guys, and it's making me see that I need female friends badly. I didn't think there would be such a difference but there really is.

Considering this is a college town, no one is ever outside. They don't have outdoor concerts or anything. There are very, very few sidewalks, which is something I find bizarre. It's summer but it's the same kind of heat I'm used to, but I don't want to stay cooped up in the AC all day. The culture here is frustrating and hard to adjust to. I'm happy with my decision, and honestly I can't imagine not having done it, but I don't like the location. Once G is done with school, hopefully we can move to a more urban place.

is this a sign?

I am at the apartment.

List: Things That Have Gone Wrong But Weren't Supposed To

1. The apartment being that disgusting. Clutter is one thing, the power being cut and the fridge going to hell is another. The smell is still there. I scrubbed for several hours earlier today with bleach and hot water, and put in a layer of baking soda.

2. Not getting the job. Yesterday alone I applied to 15 jobs.

3. I was unpacking and doing some laundry. The washer went through the cycle and...kept filling water. And kept filling, and filling, and filling. And I didn't really notice, I was in the bedroom figuring out closet space. When I came back out, I noticed something near the washer moving and I thought it was a bug or something. I took a step forward and my foot squished. It was a floating ball of dust.

I proceeded to panic. I knocked on the door across the hall but no one answered. I tried to turn the damn thing off but it wouldn't stop filling water. I unplugged it and it still kept filling. Finally I figured out how to turn off the water completely. I drove to the office and let them know, and she called the maintenance guy. He was in the next town over, about 10 minutes. He doesn't show up for another hour and a half.

G happens to have a huge bag full of sheets. I don't know why, but there were about 10 sets of sheets and pillow cases so I unfolded them all and tried to soak up as much of the water as I could. About a quarter of the carpet got wet. This guy comes in, surveys for about 10 minutes and tells me to get rid of all the sheets because he's going to use the wet-vac it right now.

It's been about 30 minutes now and he's not back.

This is not a good start. I'm doing my best not to get discouraged but it's hard. I don't have food in the fridge (I ordered a pizza), and now I don't have any carpet to walk on.

This is all because I found BEAUTIFUL sheets in that bag and so I threw them in the washer and wanted to use my new, yummy-smelling fabric softener on them. Gorgeous sheets. They were clean, they didn't need washing but I did it anyway. *sigh*

But since he's here I'm going to have him do something about the fridge.

He's still not back.

Jobs Jobs Jobs

I am feeling very discouraged. The job that was pretty much promised to me wasn't given to me. Apparently I don't have enough experience with contracts, which is fine, but I don't know why they couldn't tell me that 3 interviews ago.

In total I've applied to over 50 jobs now. I have an appointment with a temp agency next week. Maybe something will come of that.

I still feel like a guest in this house, even though they've been incredibly generous and welcoming. I know I shouldn't feel that way but it's obvious that I don't live here. All my things are still in my suitcases. I don't actually do anything. I do dishes when I see them, let the dogs out when they want to go out, and tag along on errands. I don't do anything for myself. I feel like a useless lump.

I miss my friends from CA but--I know this sounds awful--I don't miss my family. I have a bit of lingering guilt but that's fading. The only times I've heard from my family, it's been my mom to complain, and otherwise that's it. So that settles that. What I miss is the comfort of being in my own place, going through the fridge, not feeling like a bum in my PJs all day.

The humidity is still awful. It's hot, but it was hot in CA too. The difference is the humidity.

I'm avoiding my parents. They've called a couple of times. I texted an excuse about how my phone is having issues with calls or something.

I'm worried about talking to them. I will make a list of reasons.

1. I feel bad. I wanted to get away from the damn guilt but apparently it's impossible.
2. I'm still lying and they're obviously going to want details. I don't want to have to go through and give them fake details. And I don't want to waste time thinking them up. My mom wants pictures too.
3. I'm worried that calling them from my cell phone will show my location on their bill. That's what Verizon does. It'll give the closest cell tower or something. I'm going to call AT&T tomorrow and see if I can somehow get my privacy adjusted so that doesn't happen.
4. I'm avoiding my dad because I haven't heard from him at all from all of this and I know he's sad and upset.
5. I just want some goddamn space.

I have not heard a single thing from my sisters. Not one. What the hell is that? I mentioned this to my dad when I was leaving, that no one fucking talks to me, and he said that I do it to myself. Maybe so, maybe not, but I haven't heard a single thing from them and it just kinda makes me mad and reminds me why I did this all in the first place.

I can like these people, and love them even, without having to talk to them every day and live with them. Sometimes it's better from a distance. I never loved my family more than when I was living in DC. The second I got back, that all changed.

I'm tempted to write my dad an email. I really would much rather establish an email conversation instead of a phone conversation. I'm more eloquent in English anyway. The emails I prepared for when I left were rendered useless after the plan changed, so I'm thinking closure will be needed. I still feel guilty.

The days are slow, but I'm always surprised when they end. They're busy, but I'm still bored most of the time. It's strange. I'm still adjusting.

The guilt is oppressive. So is the humidity.

I've made it

Here I am.

Flying is brutal. Annoying and stressful and there should be a law implemented that prevents children from flying on red-eye flights.

I was placed in an aisle seat, which was good, except I was in between a family: the father was at the window, his young-ish (12, maybe?) daughter was in the middle, and then me, and across the aisle were mom and weird little brother. Needless to say, mom kept talking over me. And this stupid girl. We fought over the armrest. Seriously, this little girl kept shoving my arm off the armrest and then looking up at me and smirking. And, as some of you know, I have a thing about feet, and at one point she took off her shoes and socks, put her foot over so that the sole of her foot was pointed in my direction, and started rubbing her foot, sloughing off dead skin. I wanted to KILL HER.

I did get some sleep though. But the time difference killed me and I lost two hours of night.

The flight should have taken off at 12:40am, and was scheduled to arrive at 6am, with my connecting flight at 7:10am to Dallas. The flight didn't leave till 1:05. Needless to say, I nearly panicked. We arrived at 6:40. I was seated in row 20. Basically I had to grab my stuff and run through Houston-Bush International to get to the right gate and board on time. Luckily, I made it. They were at baggage claim waiting for me. My luggage all showed up fully in tact. We didn't get lost on the way to the apartment. Everything went well.

The apartment. My god, the apartment. He'd warned me that it would be "disorganized" but that just may be the biggest understatement of the year.

The first thing that hits you is the smell. It reeks. And then the sound--very faint buzzing. Try to turn on a light--nothing. Basically, for some bizarre reason, even though the electric bill was paid, the power was cut off. For three weeks. Meaning everything in the fridge was gone and absolutely disgusting. The bedroom is a mess. The living room is a mess. There's no where to step and you don't want to step anyway, because the smell makes you retch. Dishes piled in the sink, a full tray of french fries sititng there for three weeks gathering mold. G's mother steps outside and goes to the apartment's office, and they're working on bringing back the electricity. She also steps outside and calls a professional cleaning service. She swears up and down that there's no way in hell I'm staying there as it is, and I'm thrilled because it was vile. It was really discouraging.

But. The interview!

I showered, in the dark. Got dressed, in the dark. Got made up in the dark. Got driven to the interview 20 minutes early. Met everyone, interviewed, and I think it went well (touch wood). Everyone is friendly and funny and they seemed to like me. They had another interview after me at 1, but let's be real. If they really liked that person, they wouldn't have waited two weeks for me to get there to interview. I should hear back soon. HEALTH INSURANCE!

After the interview, we packed up all my things (again) and I tagged along with G's mom as she ran her errands.

I love her. Seriously. I love this woman. She's smart, she's funny, she's witty, she doesn't take any shit. She likes me because if she didn't, I'd know it. I love her. I met his sister too and tagged along with her as well, and she's great as well.

I was a bit discouraged after the flight and seeing the apartment but I think things are looking up. I'm exhausted and running on about 3 hours of sleep total since 4:30am Monday morning but that's okay. Tonight I will sleep.

My mom called and I talked to her. So that's okay. It's better like this I think. I'm away but they aren't fully cut off and so they can handle it better. They're sad but they're dealing. And I'm living my life. And this is how it should be.

Two weeks post-graduation and I've got my shit together. I am awesome.

Well SHIT

I am at the airport. But about 20 things went wrong. I'm not sure if its for the better or not but here I fucking am. I apologize for my language in advance but this is getting ridiculous.

The morning went by simply enough. I sneaked out my bag and put it in the trunk of my car, waiting for my friend to pick me up. At that point, in theory, I would switch quickly from my trunk to hers and we'd be on our way, and that's it.

I take the suitcase from my car, and am almost in D's. I'm just about to close the trunk but the suitcase doesn't fit all the way and I need to adjust to be able to close it, and as I'm doing it, the garage door opens and my dad runs out. He wants to know what I'm doing. I try to play it off; D needs the suitcase and so I'm lending it to her. Even as I speak I know he won't buy it. He's not stupid. The whole thing falls apart. We have an entire scene right there in the middle of the street. D is in the car and my father sits at the edge of her trunk, so that it's impossible to close it. He's shaking and panting and falling apart. How could I do this to them? he asks. After 22 years of raising me and being with me, this is how I repay them? I'm going to destroy the family? On and on. He asks me where I'm going and what I'm doing. I tell a half-truth. I have a job out of state. The more I tell him, the more I see him fall apart.

This is what I was dreading. My father, I can deal with him angry and aggressive. I know how to approach him this way. What I can't do is deal with my father weak and vulnerable and crying. This is what was facing me. How could I leave without saying goodbye? Weren't we a good family? Didn't we give you everything you wanted? On and on. He kept begging me to stay an extra day, so we could "properly" tell people a real story; so they wouldn't have to face the shame of having to explain that their daughter just left. It still fell back to that.

I stood up for myself. I could have stayed an extra day, like he wanted, but that would have blown my own cover and I didn't want to. And so I left. I told him no. He asked why, and I said that it was because I didn't want to. I made a choice. It was not something he agreed with, but I made my choice. And for that, I am proud of myself. I feel guilty for lying some more and guilty for hurting him, but I stood up for myself against him for the first time. And for something huge. I accomplished something today. And I think he respects me now.

He made me sign the pink slip to my car haha. That was fantastic. He woke up all my siblings and made me say goodbye. He kept trying to get me to stay longer so I could say a proper goodbye to my mother as well. He kept asking, over and over, for me to just delay the flight for one day. But that's impossible. My interview is tomorrow. I can't wait another day. And so I didn't.

I've done it. I got to the airport. I went through security. I sat near my gate. And then--

The flight is delayed. By hours. If you have a connection, you're missing it for sure. I had to get on the shuttle to get to the other terminal with my luggage. So now I'm stuck with a red-eye flight. Sitting in front of the airline check-in, which won't open for another 3 hours. I set my things down and discovered blood all over my hand--I cut myself on something. My back hurts from all of my bags. My entire life is packed into two suitcases and two backpacks. My largest suitcase weighs 70 pounds and I was charged an obscene amount for it, which was luckily refunded thanks to this whole flight mess.

I am exhausted. Is this a bad sign or is this a good sign? My dad's reaction--amazing. I cannot believe how well he has taken this. He says the house is always open, and if I ever want to come back then I can come back, no questions asked. He offered me money about 4 times (didn't take it, but I wish I had it). He called me twice, left a voicemail once and I answered the second time--"Don't be too naive. Don't trust anyone. If you ever need anything, don't ever hesitate to ask. The house is your house and it's always open." And just now, a text with similar sentiments (but also a plea to come back).

I am not going to cut them off, at least not yet. I'll play it by ear. I'll talk to them when I feel like it. I'll text if I want to. I don't have to answer all their calls anymore. I don't have to do anything. I don't want to hurt them but this is what I wanted to avoid--the guilt and unnecessary pressure. Enough.

I do feel bad though and I keep crying. I'm getting amazing support--from my family, which I did not expect, but also from my friends, which I expected but is hitting me a lot harder than I thought it would. I am surrounded by good people.

They've given me a free meal voucher but I don't want to get up with all of my things and drag them around. It's so difficult to maneuver with all my bags. I have so much time to kill though.

I hope my family doesn't show up. They know what airport I'm at but they also think I'm on the flight now so who knows.

I am so exhausted. I should be on a plane right now.

D-Day

This is it. Packed and waiting for my ride. Trying to figure out how to get the HUGE suitcase out the door without being noticed. Usually my dad walks me out so I can't just say I'm going. I think I'll say I left something in my car and put the thing out there so that when D shows up it'll be easier. Dunno. Was hoping he'd stay asleep.

Nerves are making me dizzy. Maybe it's the anxiety pill? I've been up since 4:30 so I finally took one at around 6:30. Maybe it's the anxiety pill + lack of sleep. Whatever it is, I'm glad I'm not driving.

Plan of action:
1. Get to where I'm going
2. Change phone number
2a. Alert the proper people that my number has changed
3. Pack the rest of my things, currently being stored at a friend's house
4. Get to the airport
5. Send emails at the airport
6. Get on the plane
6a. God I hope I can sleep on the plane

Easy.

Guilt part II, and daddy issues (kinda)

My good friend guilt is back. Just popped half an anxiety pill and hopefully I'll be able to sleep tonight.

My father has been on the other side of the world for the past two years and I didn't miss him. This sounds terrible but it is what it is. Growing up, my relationship with my father was one of fear and avoidance. He has had a hard life. He's built himself up from nothing here in the States and I don't think anyone else in his position would have done the same. I respect him. But I'm also afraid of him. And so, growing up, if I wanted something, I would go to my mother, who would then formulate her attack and approach him at the right time to ask him for what I wanted--permission to go to the movies, to go to a party, whatever. He would deliberate, give her his verdict, and she would report to me. Asking him directly was out of the question because I wavered and fell apart the second he started cross-examining me.

I feel guilty because I know that he has the best of intentions for me and all of us in general, he just doesn't know how to actually listen to anyone else. He doesn't know how to take other opinions. He thinks that there is only one way to do things--his way--and no one knows better.

He is oblivious. And this is going to hurt him the most. I've written him a separate email, in addition to the one I'm going to send my entire family, but he won't listen. That's the thing--I can talk all I want about how I need to do this for myself, but I know he's just going to scoff and get angry and belittle it. This is how it's always been. And that's another part of why I have to do this. But I still feel guilty. He came into my room today and sat next to me on my bed and made a little small talk, and the Hoover Dam inside my head that was holding back all the guilt broke and fell apart and was destroyed in the course of a two minute non-conversation with my father. He will be devastated. That's what I can't take. Anger, I can deal with. But the inevitable sadness that will surface when his anger subsides, I can't handle that. I'm going to avoid that.

I honestly hope this doesn't kill him. His health is already terrible, he has blood pressure and cholesterol issues, I hope this doesn't trigger something. Then we can really talk about guilt.

It's so interesting that I feel this way because he's the parent that I never talk to and always avoid. My mother and I used to have a really good relationship. But these days, she and I have nothing and my father at least deflects her nagging away from me, so I appreciate that. I don't feel guilty about her, I don't feel guilty about any of my siblings, I just worry for him. He's just an old man who's worked his ass off and doesn't really deserve this, but has set himself up for it.

There is one day left. This will be the longest plane ride of my life. I'm still excited. I'm still hopeful. I still fully believe that this is the right thing to do. I'm still terrified. And now we can add guilty to that list as well.

He constantly talks about how he needs me. To look after my siblings if something should happen (which I will do). To help with money (which I will do). To keep track of his legal documents and business overseas (which I will do). But he also has 4 other kids and another adult daughter in college who can also do that. I'm not the only one, and that's (slightly) comforting.

A part of me wants tomorrow to be a shitty family day so that I won't be so guilty, but I also would like to go with a positive last memory.

Countdown: TWO DAYS!

I am so excited. I am. So. Excited. Words cannot express how excited I am.

I am a creature of habit. I love my routine. I love knowing exactly what will happen, and at what time, and who will be involved. When my routine is disrupted in any way, I become anxious and stressed. This, this is 100% outside of any habit or routine I ever had. And I love it.

I've been thinking about the family question for some time (see previous post), and I've come to the realization that my family is the one I created with my friends this past quarter. I've never understood when people say that their friends are family, because I was always raised to believe that my friends are not as trustworthy and loyal as my true, blood family. Clearly, this is far from the truth. I've never received as much support and positivity from any group of people before.

This is actually the first time I've had true friends. I've been a loner for pretty much a majority of college, and just finally started breaking away from that. I'm not sure why. I think it's a combination of my being tired of being unhappy, and my father being out of the country. It was easier. But now I have friends, people who I love, who let me store my things in their houses, who let me sit in the corner of their office to pass the time while I pretend to be at work, friends who buy me lunch when they know I can't afford it after all of this, friends who worry about my well-being. It's bittersweet. I'm beyond excited and hopeful to make this move in two days but I'm going to miss everyone.

I can feel myself changing because of this. Or, I have changed, and this is the product of that change. I'm more assertive. I'm not scared of the consequences anymore. I wanted something, I had a goal, and even though it's terrifying and will sever a lot of my relationships, I'm doing it. And it's worth it. As much as I'd like to pretend I'm independent here, it obviously won't compare at all to what I'll be dealing with in two days. I want to become a better person. I want to become an actual adult, whatever that really means, although I suppose this is my interpretation of adulthood.

Countdown: 4 days

The biggest debate that has come to surface when I tell people about this is the issue of loyalty: do I place loyalty to the group (family) first, or do I go with my own individualistic gut instincts?

Generally speaking, it can be fairly easy to predict who will say what: my American friends immediately support me and express the fact that it's most important to be true to myself--the most important thing is my own happiness and my own hopes and dreams. The few Arabs that I have trusted with this situation provide a more interesting opinion. While they do realize that it is incredibly difficult to balance Arab and American, the loyalty always falls back on the group and the family.

In my opinion, this loyalty has to be a two-way street. I wouldn't mind making sacrifices if I felt as though I were getting something in return. Essentially I feel as though my parents buy my complicity. I am not lacking in anything material, and I realize that this is a huge blessing and privilege that not everyone has. However, I have these things in place of a respected position in the family as the eldest child--my opinions don't matter. Discussions with my father about things we disagree about don't happen.

A few days ago, while sitting with my father and sister, a topic came up regarding a man that my father holds in high esteem. My sister, on the other hand, dislikes him, and I never knew why until that evening: this man has two wives just to have two wives. I made a comment in passing about how I disagree with that and immediately was attacked by my father for that. He assumed that I was okay with extra-marital affairs here in America: "So you're okay with all the bullshit they do here in America?" No, I am not, but to continue that conversation was to open up a can of worms that would threaten him, all because I was expressing an opinion that he does not agree with.

My best friend's father is a Republican, and she and I are Democrats. We spent Monday morning talking about issues and disagreeing, but speaking like adults--calm, level-headed, letting each other speak without interruptions or name-calling. This doesn't happen in my house. Disagreement--on any issue--is automatically taken as disrespect, as stepping out the pre-existing familial hierarchy.

I am supposed to put the group and family first, and yet I can't even explain why I don't agree with a man having two wives?

This has happened before regarding religion as well. Keep in mind that my family is fairly secular and educated. Both of my parents have college degrees, and in fact my mom is currently the only one working and making money for the family. The second I made my opinion clear about my views on religion (religions in general, not any one specific faith), my father became incensed, grabbed me by the upper arm, and "explained" to me why I was wrong and why his views were correct without any ounce of doubt. And that was the end of our conversation.

I am expected to put aside my thoughts, opinions, and happiness for the family? How is that a fair exchange? Should I just accept what they want me to think because I have a laptop and room to myself? I'd much rather not have any of my material possessions and be respected as a human being instead. That's certainly worth more to me than any of my material things.

I feel as though my position in the family has degenerated to nothing more than the occasional driver and back-up plan. My parents assume that if something happens to them, I will step in and help keep things together. And this is true, I will gladly volunteer to help my family with anything they need, but until they need something for me, I am treated the same way as when I was 15. My life currently is no different from when I was in high school. I live in the same house, drive the same car, am told when to come home and when to go out, and am constantly bothered with questions regarding my every move. So I am an adult when they deem it necessary, and a child the rest of the time.

I am having a hard time dealing with my guilt.

At what point do I stop worrying about how my family feels and focus on myself instead? And most importantly, why is that wrong?

Why am I fighting this battle in the first place? I find myself getting angry as I realize that this wouldn't happen if, A) I could just be myself around my family and have them deal with it; or, B) I could just suck it up and be who they want me to be.

Despite my continual resistance against their archaic thoughts and attitudes about me, and women in general, I cannot shake off the guilt.

I've spent a great majority of my time after 9-11 defending stereotypes, defending Muslims and Arabs, and doing my best to explain away these stereotypes as stereotypes only. Unfortunately, as my own life progressed, as I got older and discovered myself and clashed with my parents--namely, my mother--on these points, the sad realization hit me: each stereotype I've tried to explain away was happening to me.

Repressed woman: check. The first time I ever went to the movies with a group of friends, I was in the 10th grade. It took two days of convincing my dad before hand. He was worried about my "virtue".

Obsession with women's sexuality and virginity: check. Any time I ever did go out, the one thing I was told was to "take care of myself". This is Arab-dad-code for "don't have sex". When my mother found out/suspected that I was having sex, I had to deny deny deny, and to prove myself, she scheduled me a physical with the gynecologist. She wanted to sit in on the exam and have the doctor specifically tell her that my hymen was still in tact. Luckily, this entire ordeal was ultimately avoided. However, now when she gets mad at me, the name calling begins, and I am most often labeled a whore.

Over-bearing man-of-the-house complex: check. My father, in an argument once, referred to himself as god. That was it for me.

Timid woman-in-her-place expectation: check. Recently, about a month ago, my father needed some information from us, and requested it via email. Being in the middle of exams, my sister and I put it off for about a week. I apologized for my lateness and gave him the information; my sister, on the other hand, apparently asked him what the information was for. His answer? An email, with choice words capitalized, bolded, and in red (NEVER, DO NOT, etc) forwarded to all of us, highlighting his importance and chastizing her for daring to ask a question. God forbid.

I could go on.

Why am I feeling guilty again?

Countdown: 8 days

Growing up, I absolutely detested being Arab. It (and I) was different from everyone around me and I just wanted to blend in. We were immigrants, very poor, and I had just transferred schools to boot. I wanted friends and I wanted to be "normal" but instead I was the new hairy brown girl that no one wanted to talk to. Combine this with my father making a point to ignore us unless we spoke to him in Arabic, and refusing to eat anything other than my mother's--admittedly very good--home-cooked Arabic food, and not allowing me to do anything outside of school with my few friends because "we're not like them", I was full of resentment.

Cut to high school, post 9-11, and I realized it wasn't so bad. I realized that my father's Arabic techniques helped me retain a rich, important language. I brought friends over for food and I wasn't embarrassed by my parents' heavy accents. I had finally come to think that being Arab-American was in fact a real possibility, that the hyphen between Arab and American helped bridge the two cultures, letting ideas, foods, cultures, move back and forth on that bridge and creating a new culture specifically made for me. During high school, I was "Arab-American."

Applying for college started straining that relationship. I was going to college, of course, but only if it was close enough for a commute. And from there, my ideals and my morals began to clash with my parents'. I wanted to live in the dorms, but "respectable" (whatever that means) girls don't do that. Hell, I wanted to go to school 6 hours away, and that became a huge issue of contention. So, I commuted. My class schedule was taped to the fridge, and when I didn't show up at home 45 minutes after the end of my last class, the phone calls started streaming in. "Where are you? What are you doing? Who are you with? Why are you with them? Why aren't you home yet?" Socializing was impossible and I spent my first 3 years of college isolated and depressed, unable to make friendships outside of class because they required dinners and outings outside of class time, and that was impossible to do. And if I dared to be anything other than thrilled at the fact that they were allowing (their word, not mine) me a college education, I was ungrateful and a possible whore, wanting only to stay out all hours of the night drinking and having sex.

I've come to the conclusion that, at least for me, it is impossible to be both an Arab and an American. Certainly not in the way my parents want it. Maybe this is a testament to the fluidity of the term. Arab-American. It can mean anything. Am I more American than Arab? My sense of individuality and my lack of commitment to the group, the community, does this make me more American? Certainly Americans are much more concerned with individual happiness than Arabs who, after all, worry most about family honor and name, and what will people think of us now? I don't think this issue is as pressing in American culture.

And so I've found myself stuck for some time. Balancing the two sides of the hyphen doesn't work. To be more Arab, as my parents want, means giving up the things that are important to me. To be more American is to alienate my family, at least temporarily (I hope) until they come around. I've tried to be what they want for four years and instead found myself in the midst of depression and academic probation, barely making it through the days but putting on a smile when they want and keeping them quiet. This isn't how it should be.

Ultimately, I have to live with this decision. I have been thinking about this for four years. I've discussed it with numerous people in varying degrees, and I finally got up the courage to see a therapist my last quarter at school. It was the right decision to make.

This is terrifying. As the day comes closer, I wake up each morning nervous and anxious but also infinitely more hopeful and excited.

The First Step

On a whim today I bought my one-way plane ticket.

I have been thinking about this for 3 years. And for longer than that, I've been repeatedly told that I have limits on the things I can do because of my gender. It sounds cliche and old-fashioned, but when it came time to apply to college, my family and I didn't discuss schools based on price or major, but proximity to home and whether or not I could commute back and forth.

My father once sat me down and said, "This is my plan for you." He then proceeded to outline what I was expected to major in, what career I would be able to obtain from that, and what kind of man I should marry soon thereafter. It was simple, and best of all, I didn't actually have to do any kind of independent thinking or make any independent choice for myself.

I realize that doing this will have a huge impact on my family. My mother will bear the brunt of the reaction, especially from my father, and I worry about that. Days like this, relatively conflict-free days, I feel guilty. But most of the days are not conflict free, most days are stressful and upsetting, and I've come to the conclusion that I shouldn't be feeling the most stress at home. I should be able to come home and relax. But--impact on my mother. My father will blame her, of course. He won't see this coming. He thinks he's doing me favors each time he tells me what to do. He thinks he's sparing me the trouble of making a decision.

I'm worried about how this will impact my younger sisters. Will they be tougher on them to prevent something like this in the future?

I was raised in a culture of no--I was told the things I could not do, not what I could and should do. No, I could not go out, it's not proper for a girl, and what will people say? No, "our girls" do not move out for college or for a job, they go from their father's house to their husband's. Girls do not SPEAK that way, it's improper. Girls don't sit that way, they don't walk laugh act eat play that way. For no reason other than being a girl. This is not a good enough reason for me.