Friday, December 30, 2005

5 Things people don't know about Moi!!

Sorry I keep getting bored and I keep seeing interesting things on Nura's blog, that would open a new world to everyone if I just say..( don't be offended Nura...one only imitate that which they admire) 5 Things YOU DONT KNOW ABOUT ME

Primo: My babysiter was the sister of the famous hockey player Raymond Bourque ( He played for the boston bruins) I met him on several occasions and when he won the stanley cup, he came to my high school to dedicate it to one of Emile Legault's ( my high schools name) finest PE instructors Msieur Ben..

Secundo: I have a weird obsession with cleaning my ears..dirty ears is a total turn off for me.

Tertio: If I don't talk to you the first time I meet you its either because, I haven't decided that you are worth talking to, or because you are still going throught my screening process ( YES I have a screening process, within which I determin if a person is worth talking to after I have heard them talk for a substancial amount of time..)

4th ( I don't know how to count beyond 3 in latin sorry): When I was 18 months old, I used to be completly and utterly petrified of chicks. ( My gandma owned a farm with hens, and chicks etc..and when I would see one, I would invariably cry or run as fast as an 18 month old could)

and finaly 5th: Until the age of about 17, I truly and sincerly thought that I was going to become a famous singer.

scoff scoff...now its your turn Haytham

Thursday, December 29, 2005

Sirens

(This is not a real story, stories I’ve read, movies I’ve watched and people I’ve known inspired it).

I remember when we didn’t fight and spend all day in each others arms, holding each other like nothing in the world mattered but us. But now, all the noises I hear are those of the ambulance, the sirens are roaring and my head is aching. It happened so fast, that I didn’t even realise that I was bleeding because the pain you caused me was so beyond my physical being.

The first time, we were in a fight about something insignificant, and you got so angry, so frustrated and pushed me against the wall and hurt my back. I was so surprised and horrified that I screamed and yelled ran out of the house in my night robe not caring what I looked like. I ran to my car, arms flailing, heart beating…and got myself on the road as you screamed after me to come back. When I got to my sisters house, in tears and in my satin bedrobe she knew something crazy must have happened for me to disturb her at this time of night. I explained to her what he had done in my absolute disbelief.

How could this have happened? I had it all set in my mind about what I was going to do the next day, while he was at work, I’d pick up all of my stuff, bring it to my sisters house until I could find a place to stay. When I had a hearty breakfast, called in sick, I rummaged throught my sisters closet, found a pair of sweats and got in my car with my mind set on finding a way to unstick myself from my husband. A man I had always admired until yesterday. I had to find a way to go….

Once I pulled into my driveway, noticing his car wasn’t there made me that much more releaved that I didn’t have to see him. Two years I lived with this man, not knowing what he was capable of; had I not been there yesterday, I would have bet my right hand that he would never harm me. So as I walk to my door, a familiar face greets me: “Hey baby, I took the day off so we could talk about yesterday”, he says, with that perfect smile he always uses when he wants to get out of the dog house.

I look at him, as if he was just a stranger in the street and walk past him, into my bedroom where I grab my red valise and I start packing. He looks at me incrudilus: “Baby what are you doing? We can talk about this, don’t do it. It was all my fault.”

He lay a hand upon my shoulder while he is quickly nuzzling my neck, my weakness.

I scream in frustration at my own stupidity, how could I even allow him to touch me?

I tell him: “I really don’t have time for this, let me get my stuff and get out of your way, I can’t do this. I really just can’t.” So, looking deeply into my eyes, he gives me the sadest look I had ever seen in my life, he falls down on his knees and nuzzles his cheek against my slightly englufed belly…He looks at me tears in his eyes, and asks me: what are going to do with the baby? How can one fight separate us, when we are ment to be?” Silently I cry within myself because those are the words I wanted to hear…He loves me, and he loves this baby. I can’t leave him, what will I be without him?

He pulls me into his arms and he kisses me with a passion I haven’t seen in him since the first day we met. When I take a shower that night, I look at myself in the mirror, recognizing the purple mark on my back, its still hurts but he promised he wouldn’t do it again. So I call my sister to reasure her that I am all right but I would be staying with my husband, and that we’d work it out.

In the 2nd trimester of the miracle of my unborn child, I am fully rounded, and I feel as big as a house. And he hasn’t been around to take care of me, where is he? He had to work late for the past three days, I haddn’t seen him and he haddn’t even wanted to come see the doctor with me. I wanted to tell him the great news that by the grace of the sonogram, I was the proud mother of a baby girl. I made dinner, candles, music, and the whole atmosphere. He came home at eleven thirty again, tired with eyes welted to his face, no expression, no humor, nothing. I couldn’t believe he didn’t recognize any effort, I was mad, and frustrated and perhaps maybe my hormones had been an element. But I came charging at him. “What the hell…it’s the third time this week you come home late, no phone call nothing, and here I am waiting for you, what did I get? Nothing not even a kiss. That door got more love than I did. Whats going on with you? Are you….” The look he gave me stop me in midsentence. He had the look of someone who wanted to kill. “What? You think Im having an affair? Is that what you think? WOMAN? You think I enjoy spending hours at work, not seeing you, not seeing my friends?” Then he walked towards me charging, cornering me against the wall. “You better learn how to talk to me! I ain’t gonna take this kind of disrespect anymore. I don’t need to call if I am late. You know where I am, call the office!”And his hand slashed accoss my face. Crying and bleeding excessivly I ran to the bathroom not beleiving that it had happened again. And then the knocks on the door, told me it wasn’t about to end with just a slap. He said screaming against the door:“Woman! You better open that door, you wanted to confront me like a man, you need to know how a man gets treated.” He kept bagging and bagging until finaly the door gave in, and he charged and me sitting on the bathroom floor with blood on my tongue and tears. That sight didn’t stop him, he picked me up, shoved me on the hard wood floor, and when I realised he was about to kick me I kicked his leg. That only got him angrier. He walked with the determination in his eyes like he knew he was going to suck a life out of me. He kicked me and punched me and now all I can hear is sirens. The last thing I remember was running out of the house, running towards my car, and then finaly seeing my sister’s face.

The paramedic keeps saying, we might loose her but I was awake and besides the aches on my face and ribs, I felt alive.

When I woke up the next day, I was in dainty room, with flowers and plants. My ribs were hurting but something inside me was hurting more. And I started to scream at the searing pain, I was bleeding. A nurse was called and I passed out again. Its only right now that I realise, as I sit on this bed mending my wounds, wiping my tears, that I realise, I lost my baby. An ache that I had never felt before placed itself inside of me, a pain so profound, that it was as if someone had robbed me of my soul and I was just a lifeless body roaming about this world. I had lost her. How could I have allowed myself to loose her? My sister walked in, with her husband and 2 children. Looking at me as if they had seen death and it looked better than me. They kept me company for the most of the day, when I really just wanted to be alone. They helped me numb my pain, and I love them for it. As vsiting hours came to a close, he showed up, peeked his cocky visage in my peerage. I was scared and shocked and I pressed the red button for the nurse. He had the gall to ask me how I was doing. I looked at him in utter disbeleif: “How could you ask me that, when you know I lost her? I lost her..YOU KILLED her and took her from me!!” He looked at me, looking bermused as if he didn’t realise what he had done. He fell on the floor just the nurse came walzing in. She asked me what the problem was, and I simply told her that visiting hours were over, therefore I didn’t want to see him and I hope that he never came again. She alerted security about my problem and they adhered to the situation well.

That was two years ago, I have gotten over loosing a precious life, and gotten over loosing whatever it was we had, my husband and me. But at night I still hear sirens.

And sirens always tell me I need to remember never let someone else tell me what I need.

If you want more information on how you can help…www.domesticabuseaware.org

yours truly

Jamz

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Snow Angel

In the mist of this snowfall in Montreal, all I can seem to think about is my childhood when snow brought about this happiness in my heart. It meant school was out, it meant my mother was going to buy hot chocolate, it meant we were going sledding, and it meant just pure happiness. It meant freedom from the shackles of day-to-day life.... two weeks of absolute perfection.

In my youth snowfall was meant camping up north, with all of my little friends for a couple of days just long enough to miss my mother. During those fun filled days, we'd learn how to ski, snowboard etc.no one ever really liked any of it, and we just loved tobogganing.The light sprinkle that came from the sky, makes me remember the softer times, when we could entertain ourselves with very little, adults tend to take things for granted.

With laughter in my eyes, my mom would make her famous pancakes and sausages every Sunday. To this day the smell of it reminds me of quieter times when my biggest worry was if I was going to get dessert because, I got kicked out of class to talking back. My parents were mostly indulgent to my capricious needs. I was a free spirit with nothing to stop me from diving into that pile of snow and making myself dozens and dozens of angels and when I was tired of that, my boots filled with snow, my toes frostbitten, I would jump back in there to make myself a couple of snow men. I would have snow fights with my two brothers, and my mom would usually join the fun until she got tired...but we didn't mind, we'd make forts and we'd fight against the neighbors, One United Front.

I had a beautiful sense of imagination, sense of pride in my little inhibited soul. No question was too straightforward, no idea impossible, nothing and no one could stop me. My parents always made me feel that, and it always I guess the first snowfall reminds me of the times where I didn't have any limit, I didn't censure myself, and when I would make people around me smile by just being myself.

Sometimes I wonder what has happened to that person I was, I wonder what made me change, what made me censor the person I am from the person I want to be...but I know forever, that I will remain my mothers mind, the Eternal snow child.

Have yourself a blessed and fruitful day.... Im gonna go play in the snow

Jamz xxx

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Quietude


I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and she asked me how I was doing and if everything was ok. For the most part that question would have gone unnoticed but for the bare purpose of the fact that i had not talked to her, since my life was turned upside down and I had to pick up the pieces of my hurricane affected life, I actually sat down and counted the blessings I possessed.
First and formost, since I was talking to her, my voice, my mouth my intellect was still semi functioning, all the blessings in that, my eyes althought I am afflicted with myopia, I can still decipher objects, and I have glasses to correct my handicap, I have eyelashes to sweep the dust from my eyes, I have a nose that helps me appreciate the subtle smell of roses. I have arms and legs, feet to carry my weight...and so many more blessings that I don't even know about, but in the end with that many blessings how can I be an ingrate and say that I am not good?

I understand that with all these blessings, some of us cannot fulfill the need of "happiness" but those who are the least blessed have something I hope to never acheive nor experience.

A Black heart.


So All I hope for in this life and in the next is for a state of quietude in my heart, that no matter the circumstances that surround me that I remember my blessings, count the ones I know of, and remain unshattered in my faith...for in the end that that is all that can withstand the test of time, agony, pain, dispairity and all of those that surround those negative circle of thoughts.

Bare in mind that if Allah gave you value by putting you in this world, no one can even try to take it away from you, that cause shall be in vain, and a shadow of wrath shall befall upon your humble soul.
Remember your blessings, and remember your state of ignorance, only those things will keep you in the state of servitude towards your Allah.

I am more than fine, I am blessed
Jamilla...

Vanity


After having gone through what it is I am going through, I can honestly say that it has been a period of growth, one that I shall never forget and never regret. I excluded myself from my friends, my family only so I could share an extra moment with him in my life. Stupid mistakes, that I have seen others commit but I could never understand why such stupidity could invade such intelligent minds. But now I understand what happened. I never remember feeling so beautiful when I was in his arms. Nor do I remember feeling so free. But it was all a sham, and we came back to reality oh too soon. Phases of my life are what make life so complicated nowadays.

Its ridiculous to even assume one understands a situation fully unless they have been in the exact same position as the protagonist. I still crave to hear his voice on the phone, still dream about his arms around my waiste, still reach in the middle of the night for his quiet face awaiting a kiss but in the end...all I grasp is emptiness...my infatuation with him was empty and filled with the vacuum of vanity.

He told me time and time again how beautiful he thought I was, how soft my skin was against his, even how he enjoyed my lips...does that make me a vain individual? Did I feel anything for him at the beginning? No not really...I thought he was cute, and I was attracted to him but feelings didn't develop. Then why are these feelings coming up now? Because I know for a fact that...human beings are...habit mongers.... when I called him every night it became a habit for me to hear him speak to me.... the words I wanted to hear. It became a habit for me feel his arms around me...like that was how nature intended life to be for us, it became a habit for me to expect his mouth to reach me every time we were in proximity.... but the habit has ceased...and so will these cravings and urges.... hopefully one day I will wake up and not expect his mouth to be near mine...hopefully my grasps will not come out empty and my vanity will fall unto shreds. But for now, I will long for them far away and concentrate on the task at hand...keeping warm on a cold December night.... yours truly
Jamz xxx