Foreign Parents

I remember grade school lunch time in the cafeteria with its long, white tables, where we pulled out our brightly colored, nylon lunch boxes that said "Rubbermaid." I remember especially Mary Layton's lunches, which were elaborate affairs of ham and cheese with the crust neatly trimmed off, homemade, themed cookies (depending on the impending holiday), and most importantly, a loving note on a napkin that said, "Mary Layton, have a great day at school, honey! I love you, Mom." In an era of cooties, Mary Layton would pull out the napkin and look at it with distaste as she wasn't one for emotions and found the note-on-a-napkin fundamentally offensive.

I, on the other hand, was enraptured by this part of American culture. My lunches were nowhere near as elaborate - my sandwiches had a smelly air to them because it was some type of foreign kabob, Americanized with mayonnaise and squished between two pieces of bread. There were no homemade cookies because my mom made kheer and gulab jaman rather than Halloween or X-mas sugar cookies, and there was no note because my mom at the point in her life wasn't all that sappy and didn't really know that that was something American moms did. And so, I spent the better part of grade school completely enamored with Mary Layton's lunches and her mom, the picture of Aryan perfection.

One day, when I was about 20, my mom started leaving notes for me. If my mom had to run errands before I woke up, I found notes that read, "Mariam, I have gone to grocery store. Here is lunch for you [Arrow pointing to food]. I hope you enjoy, I know you are picky. Love you, Mama." I found this to be hopelessly endearing, despite the fact that by now, I was too old for lovey-dovey notes and food on the counter.

Sometimes, my dad would leave notes, too, in a completely post-modern, ironic way, of course. He would write, "Mariam, I love you. I'm proud of you, Abu (Dad)." Of course, the joke was that I hadn't done anything on that particular day to be proud of, but it was just funny to use American family cliches flippantly, just like Willy Loman had in Death of a Salesman.

Last year I got a card from my dad randomly that said, "Dear Mariam, I hope you are doing GREAT. Do not miss mom. Miss me! Missing you, Your Abbu." So cute!

An Eid card from my parents: "Mariam, Eid Greetings. We hope you have a great day [Note: I didn't]. Same message is in Urdu. If not sure, take it to somebody who can translate. From Abbu and Mom, Oct. 20, 2006."

On my birthday, I got home to find a huge package from my parents; I was expecting some medicine that I had run out of, but instead I found magnets and wind chimes from my mom. She included a note on a scrap of paper with a check that said "This check is for your Happy Birthday treat at Red Lobster. Have fun. Love." When I asked my mom about the wind chimes, she merely replied, "Don't you love wind chimes?"

And so, the bottom line is this: my parents are making up for lost time when they didn't leave me cutesy notes in my New Kids on the Block lunch box in elementary school now that I'm approaching adulthood and about to embark on the medical profession. The notes almost have a nostalgic, kitschy quality that remind me of a bygone era; at the same time, my parents are satirizing American familial cliches that have been popularized by family sitcoms a la Full House, where Mr. Tanner says at the end of the half hour, "I'm proud of you D.J. and I love you!" or "We all mistakes honey, even parents." As I have come to realize, real love is shown by actions not just a mere note scribbled on a paper napkin.

--by Mariam, who apparently loves wind chimes.

Shameless Self-Promotion

An article by me!

--By Mariam, who had a very nice birthday. Thanks for the lurve people!!!!

Faking It

Imagine the scene: you're at dinner at Red Lobster with a group of people, and suddenly, the topic turns to a frightening subject that you don't even have a minimal operating knowledge of (in my case: current Russian politics or the NBA/NFL). What do you do?

a) Sit there quietly until this awful tide passes, and the conversation turns to safer pastures on a subject you know about like, horseback riding or Dancing with the Stars.
b) Aggressively yell at the offending parties for bringing up such an offensive topic in your delicate presence.
c) Act like you know what you're talking about by...faking it.

Obviously, c) is the best answer! Everyone will want to be your friend because you are a charming and well-rounded person that can converse on any topic with ease and grace and still not look like a douche poseur in the process. Here are some tips to faking your way through any conversational hurdle. Say your friends start talking about Russia 1917, a tumultuous year in Russian history with so many noteworthy events!

1) Miming and Repeating - This is a classic technique used by all poseur conversationalists. Miming and repeating works like this:
Ashot: "Why do you think Russian history ended the way it did? With Trotsky in Mexico with a ice pick in his head and Stalin's totalitarian regime terrorizing and strengthening the country until his death in 1953?
Roman: "Too bad Lenin died so early on leaving an ignorant, ruthless Stalin to grab hold of the leadership in the power vacuum of the 20s."
Mariam: "I lovvvvvvvvve Trotsky!"
You (let's say the only thing you know about Russia is that it's really cold there): "I lovvvvvvvvvvvvve Trotsky, too! It sucks that Lenin died so early. Stalin has a totalitarian regime."

See what you just did? You listened attentively to everyone else and then amalgamated and summarized their comments. Success!

Another technique repeaters use is that they merely try to complete the sentences of someone who does know what they're talking about. Example:
X: "I can't believe Trotsky had an affair -
Repeater: "Had an affair with...."
X: "Frida Khalo."
Repeater: "Frida Khalo."

This is very, very creepy and may scare the person you are copying...er, I mean repeating.

2) Asking Obscure Questions: This is when you listen very carefully and formulate a question based on what you are hearing even if you have never even remotely heard of the subject at hand - Kerensky who? Here's how:
Mariam: "The Russian Civil War was a confusing time. Pulling out of WWI like that, geez."
Ashot: "They signed a treaty with the Germans, thereby safeguarding the Eastern Front for the Axis."
You: "Oh yeah, what year was that? What's the name of that treaty?"

See what you just did? You made Ashot feel dumb because he can't remember the name of that treaty (even though you didn't even know there was a Russian Civil War) by asking an irrelevant question. At the same time, you looked like an interested participant of the conversation rather than some plebeian who wants to talk about nail polish or cute boys/hot girls.

3) Wikipedia is Your Friend: This requires the most work and is highly unrecommended for lazy people. Basically, you should constantly Wikipedia things and read the New York Times (all the sections, not just the Style section!) so that you can basically bullshit you way through any conversation (er, I mean be an intellectual with operating knowledge of almost anything in the world - want to talk sports? The NCAA recruiting system is corrupt! How about politics? Mitt Romney likes science fiction! Fashion, you say? David LaChapelle is a pedophile!).

Say your pretentious English major friend starts talking about the new Shakespeare biography by Stephen Greenblatt and how he refutes the theory that the bard was a secret Catholic. Well, you are habitual user of Wikipedia and other online news sources so you pipe up, "Did you know I read this article that compared Arrested Development to Shakespeare. Isn't that a stretch?" You have both integrated something you learned and changed the topic to something you know about! Score - everyone else: 0, you: 1!

With these simple tips you will never feel awkward or be at a loss for words in any conversation. God speed!

--By Mariam, who is thinking of starting a series of "How To" books for the less fortunate citizens of the world.

Being Charitable and the Catholic Contingency

Today I went to Chipotle with 2/3 of the Catholic Contingency, and inevitably, we discussed religion, and I posed some hypothetical moral dilemmas to these two experts in piety. As Jack attacked his (double wrapped!!!) burrito with a joyful glee, he wistfully said, "There are no bad Catholics anymore. Everyone can get communion these days." Although I am not exactly sure who would be excluded from Communion (besides non-members), I smiled and nodded sagely as if knew why this was a travesty (Wikipedia has not yielded any answers to Jack's esoteric comment).

"Well," I said with great authority, "Islam definitely has categories for good and bad Muslims." Both Patrick and Jack found this to be truly wonderful because these days, there are all kinds of Christians - the strict Christians who go to Bible study and attend church with a regularity that even God finds amazing, and the masses, who love parties, booze, and Spring Break. There was no "good" or "bad" because within American society, "everything goes" these days, and it's currently chic to avoid labeling.

In contrast, in Islam, there are good, practitioners of the faith and then the bad seeds, who are like the grave diggers in Hamlet - they only come out at night but provide some of the profoundest moments in the entire play. The bad seeds add the spice and drama to the soap opera of our lives - they are the secret villains, who hide their unIslamic deeds by the dark cloak of night. Lady Macbeth eloquently soliloquizes night and its unseemly benefits as she musters the courage to murder:

Come, thick night,
And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,
That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,
Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,
To cry "Hold, hold!"

And so, just like Shakespeare's (arguably) most famous character, some Muslims hide their moments of weakness and temptation by the "blanket of the dark," engaging in a deception because this dichotomy of "good" and "bad" Muslim still exists. Islam, being a relatively new religion, has not yet reached the point sociologically where sins like zina can be openly committed with gusto.

Now while I posed this dilemma to the Catholic Contingency, they found that engaging in deception was better than openly and brazenly disregarding the moral imperative of religion. In hiding their sins, one was at least repentant, Jack reasoned; they hid for they knew it was wrong. However, the crucial question remains - is that why these 'bad' Muslims hide? Or do they realize that the social consequences of their wrongdoings are so dire that deception is the only means by which they can entertain the society of other Muslims? Is repentance really a part of this cloak and dagger theatrical routine?

In the end, the Catholic Contingency came up on the side of "hate the sin, not the sinner" and "judge not lest ye be judged." One should pray for these people who have fallen prone to sin, but to judge them and hate them for their moral failing of deception? A difficult task to avoid, but essential in maintaining one's own moral character. For example, a sample Quranic verse: "Let the one who believes in Allah and the Hereafter utter good words, or let him be silent."

And so, the conclusion I came to is that the Catholic Contingency is much more charitable than me, and in one ride to eat a veggie burrito, I learned a valuable life lesson from an unlikely source - people not of my own faith, but ironically from individuals who believe that contraception is a "mortal sin" and the resurrection of Christ. And as a result of said Life Lesson, I did not write a revengeful blog about bullies at Carlisle School; and instead, I pray for them in namaz. Thanks Catholic Contingency!

--By Mariam, who hopes that this blog has not alienated the readers who like funny, quirky blogs by getting all, like, deep.

Reality Show Typos

It came to my attention tonight, with an astute observation from unnamed sources, that Ashot is just one typo away from having his own reality TV show.

--By Farrah, who hopes if Ashot ever does have a reality TV show on MTV, he will introduce her and Mariam to the cast of The Hills

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Rowdy Quiz Reviews

In the first year, we were very polite medical students. If we there was an objection to information in a slide or an answer to a quiz question, we would have whispered objections among ourselves. And then in a sort of mini-election, each group elect somebody to bring our objections to the instructors attention. A few hands would go up around the classroom, and the professor would call upon one of the students. Our complaints would be heard, and there would be polite nodding as the rest of the hands went down.

In contrast, the second year class is sassier than ever. Any incorrect answer to a quiz question, and there are loud rumbles from all directions. Would we ever show this kind of collective anarchy to CBC in the first year? I think not, so I believe the root of our new rowdy behavior is our sudden surplus of British professors. We are echoing the rambunctious nature of the British House of Commons. Debates in the United States Congress may have an impassioned speech or a stern tone of voice, but there are generally few outbursts from the back row. Debates in the House of Commons are met with unruly grunting from all directions, people standing up and sitting down, Gordon Brown picking his nose - anything can happen. I would not be surprised if next time we have a quiz review, I hear shouts of "poppycock!" or "bollocks!" when we are trying to show our disapproval. Even though I think we are a little too rude at times, I like it better. I think if the US Congress (or more relevant right now - the US presidential candidates) spoke their minds like the Brits more often instead of focusing on pleasing their demographic, debates would get more accomplished.

In case you've never seen a debate in the House of Commons, here's one, just for you, through the magic of youtube. Followed by, of course, Gordon Brown picking his nose.





--Farrah, who recently discovered that she was not crazy in her yoga class (see post - indications that I was losing it) because the instructor actually did have music that inspirationally sang "don't let anyone ever tell you, you are anything less than beautiful"

When People Stop Being Polite...and Start Getting Real

I know I will face an inevitable backlash with this blog because it is about a trash television show, The Real World. Dear blog reader, you may be thinking, Mariam, do you seriously watch that show? Do you really watch a show that's watched by high schoolers or college kids when they're stoned or post-hangover?

If you are in your early twentysomethings, then you remember fondly when The Real World was about actual issues. Remember the first season in New York when Julie asked Heather if she was a drug dealer because she had a beeper? Remember the infamous fight between Julie and Kevin on the street about race (ah, the early 90s with its whole "struggles of the black man" vibe)?

Remember Pedro? I swear, Pedro taught me everything I needed to know about AIDs and HIV. I still reecall him telling high school kids in his cute Hispanic accent, "I got ze disease through heterosexual sex," which I found to be astounding at the time. Remember Puck, the first roommate to be kicked out? God, now he was a real douche. Anyways, back in the 90s The Real World was about Issues that plagued the last decade of the twentieth century. Although these Issues were more After School Special than an actual intellectual debate that would make Noam Chomsky proud, it was so much more than what the show has devolved into now.

Now, the show is about plastic looking 19 year olds getting hammered and hooking up every single night while their drunken fights are televised. I may sound like my granny, but the show is absolutely disgraceful!

However, what affected me profoundly in today's episode was not the epic fight between the Iranian girl and one of the bottled blonds (one calling the other "SLUT!" drunkenly), but it was the outfit one of the roommates chose to wear. One blonde girl (I think her name was Shawnda) wore a Juicy Couture track suit with "JUICY" emblazoned on the butt...to a club! While I understand that a track suit from Juicy costs at an upward of $180, it is not something one would wear to a nightclub. This girl was also wearing heels with her track suit, and while I realize that cast mates on this show are not exactly Valentinos or Halstons in training, there is no excuse for such a major faux pas. These days, the fashion community debates whether it's socially acceptable to wear a Juicy track suit to the grocery store, much less a club! All I have to say to that is, wow, Real World, you and Bunim-Murray productions have reached a new low.

--By Mariam, who realizes this isn't a blog-worthy topic, but just was so upset by the Juicy suit that she had to get her feelings out. Also, she realizes that probably 2 people who read this blog (nameless friend and Bushra) are the only ones who are really going to get the references about The Real World.

The Complicated Gender Politics of Being a Muslim Kid

As most of the well-informed intelligentsia know, Muslims believe in the segregation of the sexes. Of course, this stems from an inherently suspicious view of human nature as fallen and naturally prone to sin. In other words, the basic formulation is this:

Boy + Girl --> Temptation --> Acting on one's impulses --> Zina

While my tone may seem light as in jest, I assure you, dear blog reader, that religion is no laughing matter; unfortunately, my style of writing has an inherent feel of satire and mockery that I can't seem to rid myself of no matter how hard I try (Oscar Wilde suffered from a similar affliction). Nevertheless, here is a sample Hadith on the matter:

"Do not be too pleasant of speech, lest one in whose heart there is a disease should feel desire for you..." [33:32]"

Here is the punishment for zina (it doesn't look too good, folks):

"Those who invoke not, with Allah, any other god, nor slay such life as God has made sacred, except for just cause, nor commit fornication; and any that does this (not only) meets punishment (but) the Penalty on the Day of Judgment will be doubled to him, and he will dwell therein in ignominy." (Al-Furqan, 25:68-69).

In light of such proclamations by the Prophet (SWT) and Allah, it becomes quite clear why most of the younger generation of American-Muslims suffers from a very confused conception of gender politics. After all, one of the guiding pillars of this country is the free intermingling between the sexes (right after bombing countries that don't comply with our wishes "back to the Stone Age," as Pervez Musharraf once famously complained). The conservative Muslims are trapped in a rock and a hard place (forgive the cliche). Should one abandon the stringent rules of religion and hang ten with all those cute boys (or girls)? Or should one cling desperately to the deen and go all in - finding solace in same sex relationships and acting with the utmost awkwardness when a member of the opposite sex passes?

In general, however, those who still regard the faith as a way of life have found a healthy, if not hypocritical, balance. A conversation that occurs constantly within Muslim circles is this: "OMG, it is soooo much easier to talk to non-Saracen (i.e. white folk) guys/girls than it is to have Muslim guy/girl friends!"And so, an implicit rule remains: one can more easily fraternize with a member of the opposite sex as long as they are not Muslim.

What results is a hypocritical and complicated social dance, where Muslim guys and girls segregate to opposite ends of the room when there is a mixed gathering and pretend the other side does not exist. One's brothers/sisters in Islam are merely vapor that one studiously ignores so that one can be accepted into mainstream Muslim society.

In fact, I, myself, blogger extrordinaire, am prone to such practices. For example, there are some Pakistani guys I have known since I was 0, our parents are best friends, we're neighbors blah blah blah, and yet have I had a conversation with them? Tragically, no. When it's time for Eid-ul-fitr, and we have received massive numbers of Eid hugs, we pass each others like strangers on a crowded street.

However, when it comes time to fraternize with "infidels" (read: non-Muslim guys), we embrace them with gusto and carve a special place in our hearts for them. We act like typical, assimilated American kids - here I am with my friend Joe, who loves water skiing and comes from a Presbyterian family, we have so much in common! Here I am with Tiffany at the club, drinking....a Coke. Ah, how we forget the Hadiths about male/female fraternizing so readily when it comes to these guys (or girls). Do we feel "safe," knowing that Joe's mom Tina won't readily sully our names within the Pakistani community, or do we know that we have a mungather, hand-picked by Mom, awaiting in Jhelum?

But in my own defense, maybe we engage in these hypocrisies because with our fellow Muslims we both know the boundaries we should have and treading into the dangerous waters of zina becomes so much easier with this knowledge. Maybe we don't feel so "safe" when it's two Muslim people, because as we both know that really, this exchange of goodwill and greetings should not even be occurring. Ah, to be young and Muslim in America.

--By Mariam, who both muzza kari hai aapne mulkh mei aapne khandan kai saath. Yeah, that's right, pull out your Urdu to English translators.

In Defense of a Conservative

I'd never thought I'd see this day - me sticking up for an arch conservative? Toledo has fundamentally changed me.

Have I have left my radicalized, man-hating ways behind? Has the Catholic contingency convinced me of their pro-life ways and committed me to a near pathological devotion to life being guided completely by theological doctrine? Only time will tell.

--By Mariam, who is up late due to lots of medications.

It's Never Over: Ira Glass and Me

Last Monday, Abby and Farrah gave This American Life with Ira Glass "two enthusiastic thumbs up." I had listened to the show before but wasn't an avid fan like Siskel and Ebert here were. This week's theme "It's Never Over," I found, was about a topic that eerily hit close to home - how we think that we are over a particular life event, but when our memories are triggered, all those old feelings (of bitterness, sadness, ebullient joy) are revived.

Was it a strange coincidence that I started to write about my experiences at Carlisle School just this week and had reconnected with many of my old friends via blog? Wasn't it fundamentally weird how Shlee, in one of his characteristic random outbursts during lecture, told me "to quit living in the past and accept [my] current life for what it was?" I had given him my signature look of disgust and distaste to let him know that I thought he was severely whacked.

Of course, in light of this week's This American Life, I realize that Shlee may have a point. Did I dwell on the past? Was Carlisle School my peak, a time when I was at the top of my game? Was life after that a pointless barrage of nothingness? Had the bullies at Carlisle School (Danny Billera/Wilson, Betsy Jean Clay) traumatized me so much so that I hated all brown haired-squirts from broken homes and overweight Southern girls with two first names for life?

The answer was a resounding yes. Many would find this really pathetic, and I can almost hear many blog readers' internal monologue right now - just get over it, it was a million years ago! Ah, but that, dear blog reader, is where you err - obviously these people on This American Life were not over the traumatic incidents of high school (where one contributor had been thrown down the school stairs by the notorious Jack Abramoff, no less), and here they were on Chicago Public Radio.

The Life Lesson I learned this week was not that writing about the past is a therapeutic way to purge one from the memories that haunt us, but that there is a whole lot of cash money, fancy cars, and fame in capitalizing on high school experiences (see: David Sedaris, Larry Doyle). So I will persevere (for the sake of fame and fortune) and continue to use this blog to write about certain individuals who made me distrust the goodness of the human race. And coming soon to a BackRowBallers blog near you - Bullies at Carlisle School.

--By Mariam, who will make a heroic journey back to Cold Mountain (aka North Carolina), where she will see her old friends Inman and Ruby, this week.

Hallway Etiquette

If you are anything like me, which seems unlikely because I obviously abstain from all things mainstream, you hate encountering vague acquaintances in the hallways. Depending on my mood at these encounters, I will choose one of several options:

1) Stare at the new flyer on the wall as if the AMA business meeting is the most fascinating thing I've ever read about, and I simply cannot peel my eyes away to say hello to you.

2) Look at you straight in the eye until you acknowledge my presence. Dammit people, you need to give me your full attention - I'm important!

3) Say hello.

Now, option 3 may seem like the most obvious choice, but it's just not that easy. Usually, I am okay with saying hi to people while in the lecture hall. It's a domain where you can definitively tell from where you know this person, whereas in the hallway this person could know you from anywhere - the bar, the rehab clinic, that weird cult you joined! It's a sad fact, but we're pretty far into the second year, and I still don't know everybody. The random POPS group assignments never fail to reveal somebody I've never encountered before in class. I'm pretty shy at first with all new people or even vague acquaintances, and will not usually be the first one to approach any interactions. In the hallway, I'm pretty sure the polite thing to do is acknowledge people from your class, but often I never make it to hello. I wish I were that friendly, like Gina of MS3 fame (she's way nice), or Mr. Hickey who said hello to me and Abby in the hall today (awkward!), but I simply get overwhelmed with approach anxiety. I think if everybody knew the same rules, I wouldn't have to feel so awkward because a standard would be set. So peruse the following guidelines of hallway etiquette, and feel free to make amendments in the comments.

Level of Friendship	Hallway Behavior Guidelines
Close friends – roommate, somebody who started a blog with you, somebody you call or text several times a day, and/or Ashot (I swear this guy is everybody’s friend)	An enthusiastic HELLO, with a wave and a smile – you can add a wink at your own discretion.
School friends – somebody you encounter only at school or at the library, and you know their name, you might secretly stalk their social agenda on the facebook	A hello, and a curt nod.
Activity friends – somebody you only see at a club meeting, but you don’t sit anywhere near them in lecture, and you don’t actually know their name	A curt nod. Remember the face if you want to facebook them later, and potentially upgrade them to "school friends"
Any other MS2s you vaguely recognize	A vague smile will probably suffice
Drunk friends – somebody you only talk to when you have been drinking in excess at an after-test party	You can look at a flyer on the wall at this point. You most likely made a fool of yourself at the last party.
MS1s	A stony look straight ahead will intimidate and let the first years know you are way too busy to deal with them.

--By Farrah, who thinks everybody should go volunteer their time at the community care clinic - you might even help a guy get a job by giving him a physical, and you won't be able to stop staring at the naked woman tattoed on his forearm
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