This is what the Chicago area currently looks like, even though Spring officially started last week. 😒
I think this is karma for gloating over Boston having it worse than us this winter.
This is my living room floor.
And so it begins.
By the end of the week, the room will be littered with toys and there will be no carpet to be seen.
From my Facebook news feed.
Spring is officially here!
*Doing a little happy dance*
School and homework are keeping me busy. The weather is getting better and we find ourselves spending a lot more time outdoors.
I haven’t had the chance to read any of my favorite blogs or devote much time to my own. 😦
Today’s blog post is another click a pic one. Over the weekend we visited my sister on/near the campus of the University of Illinois in Chicago. One of the highlights of the trip to Fati aunty’s are the fantastic views you get to see along the way and while there. Chicago is, after all, famous for its architecture and skyline.
I lived in Queens, New York before moving to Chicago when I was fourteen. This city has its pros and cons, but New York will always be close to my heart.
If my husband were awake, he’d read this over my shoulder and say So you enjoyed the smell of sewer water and being mugged twice a week? and I would tell him to take his country ass back to Kentucky.
We’re soul mates. ❤
Seeing the Chicago skyline while cruising down one of the city’s many highways is awesome. Being in the city always gives me a thrill. Must be the New Yorker in me.
The visit to Fati’s turned into a sleepover for me and my kids because of how late it had gotten.
It was so lovely to see this when I happened to wake up around dawn. It felt like the whole world was waking up with me.
At night from the balcony.
After seeing all these beautiful photos I have come to one major conclusion : I need a better camera.
I can’t wait for my classes to be over. School is a pain in the ass. I wanted to elaborate on the name of my blog and explain why I am so in love with views, but that will have to wait for another post. I have a mountain of backlog of homework to do. 😥
– William Henry Davies
Today is my husband’s birthday! Yay!
We didn’t get to go out to a restaurant like we wanted, so dinner had to be pizza.
Deep dish, Chicago style, and meat lovers, of course.
Since it was his special day, he got to order what he wanted. I personally don’t like deep dish pizza very much. I’d pick New York style over it any time.
My husband and I have now been together for over eight years. I hope we get to spend many more birthdays together. ❤️
And for nostalgic purposes, here are some photos of us from our honeymoon in Orlando, Florida.
If you look real close there’s a blurry-ish full shot of me.
Happy March everyone! I can totally sense the allergies coming on.
I have four siblings. Two brothers and two sisters. That makes me the eldest of five.
Most of the time I would say I’m very loving and maternal towards them. I’m sort of like a den mother type.
But of course siblings can piss you off.
We don’t fight often, but when we do, things escalate pretty quickly. We get MEAN.
When you fight with a sibling, you don’t hold back.
My youngest sister sent me this yesterday to say the sun reminds her of me.
Ha ha ha. 😂 I have to say, I agree.
Guilty of being human.
Of falling and falling again.
Of rising only to the occasion.
Of dalliances with sin.
Expect from me not
reins of hold.
Purity of gold.
Check of imagination.
Statements bold.
I only want to feel.
The wind in my hair.
Laugh loud.
Walk bare.
To love freely.
To want deeply.
Unashamed.
Chain not what is there,
inside.
Fight not,
nor hide.
What false claims they say.
That this be the godly way.
What of that mercy.
To tighten strings bound.
To see only error.
To hear only the prayer sound.
The stallion rogue.
Of desire on hold.
Of life unchased.
That is divine placed.
Not chains.
Lose, live not encased.
That’s not the lord.
It’s the people.
Filthy of soul.
Double of face.
Spring is in the air!
Yeah, right. 😒
Anyway, at least the ugly month of February is coming to an end.
The beginning of March always makes me happy. I see hope and warmth around the corner, even in frost bitten Chicago.
The last pic, of the extremely colorful bunch of florals, is of a because we know you love them bouquet that my husband and son picked up for me last night. ❤️
There is nothing to be said,
if not the truth.
How it seethes when hindered.
Gnawing inward.
Sharp of claw and tooth.
Storm and thunder,
to ignorant ocean waves.
Tranquil sleep and slumber.
Wrapped in oblivious stays.
The demon that must be embraced.
The bitter drink with poison laced.
The truth that embitters.
Hurts in more ways than one.
Brings out from caves.
Into the sun.
Head of Elgin Islamic School charged in sex abuse of former employee
Can’t say I’m shocked.
Sexual violence happens everywhere in the world and in every type of society. But few will admit that it is rampant in religious institutions where extreme sexual repression is practiced and endorsed.
It happens and it happens often. In secrecy, of course. Similar to the scandal that rocked the Catholic community.
What I am shocked about is that the perpetrator is facing charges. People who hold high, powerful positions are not brought down easily. Major respect to the young lady who had the courage to speak up for herself. Major respect for the family that supported her. Her bravery has led other women to come forward about being molested by the same sick bastard.
Laying allegations of sexual abuse against a figure such as Abdullah Saleem is no small feat. For the Chicago Muslim community, he might as well have been the Pope. That’s how revered he was, and still is, to some people who believe the victims are lying.
You might be thinking that I’m too quick to judge. That everyone is innocent until proven guilty.
True.
But I speak from personal experiences and observances that very often (but not always, of course), those who speak the loudest are mostly full of shit.
If you feel the need to sermonize and make a big tada about your actions, odds are you’re speaking from the mind and the wallet. Not the heart.
And if your actions are from the heart, you don’t need an audience or a spotlight to showcase you. The beauty of your deeds and your work will speak for itself and be satisfaction enough.
I am also well aware that a victim’s reputation is always at stake in cases of sexual abuse. To speak up is to be faced with questions and accusations against ones own ethics and principles, especially in a religious setting and against such a highly esteemed figure as Abdullah Saleem.
No woman or man would tackle something of this magnitude were it not for some major, MAJOR shit having gone down. No amount of money can equal the fight and the heartache of tackling the tsunami that is the backlash from a large religious community.
Salem Witch trials, anyone?
I can’t sum up in words exactly how awed I am by the young lady who has now given a voice to other victims.
She has more balls than the entire male staff of IIE put together.
This scandal brings to light how powerful a recruiting tool religion can be. I’m a sexual predator won’t sell, but religious school for the learning of Quran or Bible classes for young boys will have people lining up to patron your holy cause.
Put a supposedly divine stamp on it and it’s amazing what you can get away with.
A fantastic Indian movie I watched recently, PK (yeah, that’s the title, a P and a K), gives an account of how warped religion has become in the hands of man. It is religion seen through the eyes of an extraterrestrial. An alien. Awesome stuff. Please do give it a look. You’ll easily find a copy with subtitles if need be.
And no, I was not paid for the advertising of the movie.
As if.
Lastly, and most importantly, please listen to your children and create an environment in which they feel safe coming to you for any and all problems. Abdullah Saleem isn’t the only one, of course. There are plenty of sickos out there, some in guises of holy pillars of the community and many not. The trauma of living through sexual abuse is something that can easily break an adult.
Imagine what it has the potential to do to the fragility of a child.
The View Through The Window 