Rule #3: Always have something edible around.


I don't mean doughnuts, but, like, tonight I had an onion, fried in rings and 2 eggs and a piece of Ethiopian-ish bread for dinner. I left it too late after my lunch, because of the acting class. (I'm taking an acting class at school which wasn't bad. The only guy in the class kept trying to touch me, to close the shape, while we were making shapes, which wasn't necessary and I kept withdrawing and it must have looked interesting except if anyone noticed, they didn't say anything. I didn't hate it. I liked it actually, the class, I mean.

Then I saw one of the Muslim girls who doesn't cover and knows me when she wants to and that got on my nerves. But then, I missed the bus and the mother of a girl I don't really know gave me a ride all the way home because she was picking up her daughter from the musallah and saw me on her way. It was lightninging and raining too.

Anyway, I ate and I feel better. The act of cooking and washing dishes makes me feel a little better too. It is different when you know they will stay clean and the sink will stay clean. Nothing wrong with loads of people using stuff. It's just nice.

Back to eating,
ma'assalama

PS Ninjabis are considered cool, the WTF enforced its anti-hijab rule, some stupid Indian bitch tried to unmake me (or I'm paranoid or both) and I can't do any kind of sport unless it's strictly allowed because hijab is becoming a worldwide sticking point and the people who don't or don't right are not helping those who do. I don't know if I can go back to taekwondo or not and wushu just might not even be worth it. And if the only way is to marry somebody who does them, then screw them both. I'd hate him. I'd hate any Muslim man who was doing something. Maybe it's spiteful. But, he gets to exist and I have to fight for every inch I take up, except at work, which is a blessing.

Salaams.