wow. so long since i've been on here. i don't think i'll be back, though. it was beautiful while it lasted.

you can find me here, however. i tumble regularly. nomadmanifesto.tumblr.com

hope to see some of you there.

be love <3

touch of fame.. jk jk

I'm going to disneyland on tuesday with my family! We're also going to LA and i'm definitely hoping to rub elbows with some celebrities... i know, i know, but it's the 13 year old girl in me!

I'm just really excited to be in the city that created such gorgeous specimens as Adam Levine and John Mayer spend time with my family...

I'm currently packing. Yeah... I've kind of made a mess of things.

long time no blog... visit me on tumblr! nomadmanifesto.tumblr.com & fameandotherdrugs.tumblr.com

here's a song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjVpkEGAgiw

be love<3

update

i'm on tumblr!

nomadmanifesto.tumblr.com this is my poetry/serious stuff tumblr

fameandotherdrugs.tumblr.com this is where i reblog images of the things i'm secretly ashamed of obsessing over ;)

any of you on goodreads? you can find me:

http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/5871295-jamila

xoxox

dear me

i've been tagged! and it's the loveliest tag, ever. i have to write an anonymous letters. and i sure do love letters ;)

it's supposed to be a dear you letter, but since i think i'm going to write a dear me letter.. call it creative license, but there are some things i need to assure myself of.

dear me,

god, you're wonderful. too much? okay. i'll stop. but you are. sometimes, anyways. not when you're PMSing, but that's another story.

i know it's hard being in university with so many people that are so much older than you, but you are there because you deserve to be there. you are just as smart, just as worthy. believe in yourself, please. i believe in you so much, i just need you to do the same.

and don't stress. you'll figure it all out. so what if you graduate next year? so what if you don't know what you're doing after that? okay, mom and dad definitely disagree, but honestly, where is the goddamn fire? there IS none. the fire is only in your boots. you will figure it out in due time. i know it doesn't feel that way, but i need you to believe that what is meant to be will be. trust me. everything will work out. i guarantee it. stop stressing. (seriously, dude, these spots on your face are REALLY starting to freak me out!)

take your writing seriously. it's the most important thing to you for a REASON. you're a student, a daugher, a sister, a friend, but you are first and foremost a writer. it is not what you do, it is who you are. never ever forget that.

no one will ever be all things to you. this is an unfair expectation. take what you can from whomever offers it. let it be enough.

and you will meet a boy who is funny and sweet and good to his mother. i don't know when or where, but i trust you will. and if you don't? well, that will be alright, too.

and keep on reading bell hooks. i think she just might change your life.

love,

me

a confession

i have a confession to make. it's a little embarrassing. but before i get to that there is something you should know.

tomorrow is the midnight premier of harry potter.

i have never been more excited for anything in my life.

i've been reading harry potter since i was a child. i want you to try to understand what it means to me. i was eleven at the same time that harry, hermione, and ron were eleven. there is something so powerful about aging with characters. you see yourself in them.

every year i have had a book or movie release to look forward to. what harry potter means to me, what it means to so many people is almost unnameable. but the books were magical, and in being so, they allowed readers to recover some of the magic that has been lost in our own lives.

i'm getting sentimental. *smacks forehead* trust me, enough tears have been shed over the end. i even watched the london movie release and cried myself silly. but that's besides the point.

this is my confession.

for my summer class i am required to volunteer a minimum of 20 hours at a high school. i committed to volunteering four fridays in july which would have put me at a total of 32 hours. i am a bit of an overachiever. okay, fine i'm not, but i really do like working with kids.

a few days ago i realized that the midnight premier was thursday night. as in i would start the movie at 12, get done around 2:30, get back and be in my bed by 3:30.

and friday is the day after thursday, generally speaking. so i would have to be up at 6. and i would have to drive an hour and a half to get to my volunteer site. i couldn't imagine driving an hour and a half on only about 2 and a half hours of sleep. i'm too young to die!

so i decided that i would miss the premier. and considering how big of a harry potter fan i am, not to mention the fact that my ticket was PREPAID, that is saying a lot.

and i was heartbroken. so i decided that maybe i didn't have to volunteer on that specific friday. i would have my minimum number of hours done anyways, right? so i decided that i would tell my teacher that i had an emergency come up, and i wouldn't be able to make it on friday. she would be understanding, of course. i felt bad.

today in class i told her i had a family emergency come up. she looked at me expectantly. what came next was not planned or intended, i swear. i said: "my sister is having an emergency c-section."

my sisters are 15, 9, and 4 months, respectively.

i immediately wished the ground would open up and swallow me. where the HELL had that come from? i wasn't a good liar, i was sure she'd see right through me.

"congratulations!" she squealed. "is it her first child?"

was it? "yes," i hedged, creating this fake sister.

"is it a boy or a girl?"

"a girl," i blurted out.

FRAUD, FRAUD, FRAUD, the voice inside my head was screaming. i had invented a fake pregnant older sister. but on top of that i had invented a fake baby girl that is going to be born this friday.

i feel terrible.

but it was worth it. so, so, so worth it.

i'll blog about how incredible the movie was, and how i cried self-consciously in the dark theater, later.

these things

i'm reading letters to a young poet by rainer marie rilke.

it's changing my life. it's a bit off putting the way this old german man understands. he writes about being lonely and being afraid and of the importance of going into oneself.

he is asking the tough questions. i am afraid of the answers. i don't know when i got this way- so afraid and hesitant, but it is good to know that i am not the only one.

the end

"All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves. We must die to one life before we can enter another."

Anatole France

i'm eating ice cream and chocolate cake and trying to write something. i haven't written anything in a while, and it's getting uncomfortable. it's kind of like constipation. too much? maybe?

i've started everything is illuminated by jonathan safran foer. it's good so far.

i'm done with school. i'm officially a senior in college.

in two days i'll be done with work. (i work in a second/third grade classroom). i'm afraid the kids will forget me. for the life of me i don't want them to.

i'm a little sad that everything's coming to an end. i was so excited for the end, so excited to be done, but i'm so sad. i don't know what to do with the end now that it's here.

that's why that anatole france quote means so much to me- because i feel that way. it's grief, that achy sadness that you can't shake off. i'm grieving because i will never again be the girl that i am this year, i am grieving for the girl i was the year before that, and the year before that.

this sadness won't last. i know in a few days it'll be gone and it'll be officially summer, and i will drink lemonade and get a suntan. but it will come again. it always does.

relativity

i feel too much. every single thing. i can't turn it off. i'm overwhelmed by how much i feel sometimes. happiness, sadness, loneliness, anger, disappointment. it is almost painful to be so hypersensitive to the world and the people in it. it's a blessing and a beast. god, i beg when my emotions bring me to my knees. i am constantly crumbling. it is a difficult way to live.

what is the difference between a blessing and a curse i wonder. is it all relative?

letters

i haven't written any letters in a while. i'm a big fan of letters in case you haven't noticed. especially letters to people i don't have any (legal) way of reaching.

dear adam levine,

i think i'm in love. i graduate at the end of next year, and then i am all yours. i'd leave school right now, but just in case things don't work out, i need something to fall back on. it's the feminist in me, what can i tell you?

i know you have a girlfriend... a victoria's secret model? seriously? so unoriginal, adam, i'm a little disgusted. but i see the allure. just look at those long, spindly legs... on second thought, don't. so if you can wait just a little longer? i'll never leave your bed. (what? it's a song, okay, don't look at me like that).

yours,

jamila

dear james franco,

one of my biggest aspirations in life is to marry a good looking writer. you're certainly good looking, and your certainly a writer, but are you a good writer? and with those smoldering eyes of yours, does it even matter? hm. i recently read your book of short stories palo alto, and i immediately took a shower afterwards. just kidding. no, actually i'm not really kidding. but thank you for making me realize that i must amend my standards: for a guy to be marriage worthy he must not only be good looking but be a good writer, too. so thank you for making me realize that i deserve better.

forever yours,

jamila

now letters to people i actually know:

dear dawsa,

i love you and i miss you so much. it's incredibly lonely without you here. i miss you at the most random times. sometimes at night before i fall asleep i'll look at the clock and calculate what time it is for you, and i'll get sad. i wish you weren't so far away. my sister girl.

dear mama,

everyday is mother's day. i hope you feel that way. you're beautiful, inside and out, and i'm so blessed and proud to be your daughter. it's so nice having you home these past few weeks. i love seeing your face when i come home from school. it's my favorite face in the world, did you know that?

dear grandma,

i think, and this might seem a little strange, that you know me better than anyone else, and in a lot of ways i know you better than anyone else. better than your dead husband, or your own children. i can't wait to come see you. i dream of you sometimes. it makes waking up with you so far away that much harder. every poem i've ever written is about you in some way.

monotony

i am so tired of the same old routines. it's a half hour past midnight and i want to shout: does it ever get better? i am waiting. don't ask me for what... i couldn't tell you, but i feel as if i've spent my entire life waiting.

and if you think about it, we are all waiting for something. for a boyfriend or a husband to call. for the weekend. for a cab or a train or a plane. for a baby, for the flowers we planted last month to fight their way into life.

and the fact that i am not alone in this should make me feel better, but it depresses the hell out of me. it is spring, and this sense of monotony makes me ache. the days bleed so thoroughly into the other that they blur. it gets hard to distinguish one from the other.

royal wedding

When I was like 10 I had the biggest crush on Prince William. I just knew that I would meet him, and he'd fall in love with me, and we'd be married, and I'd be a princess. I think that's what I was most excited for- being a princess. (What?! What ten year old girl didn't want to be a princess?)

I'm watching some NBC special about the preparation for the wedding and a number of issues come to mind:

- Why the @&(@# do I live in America? There is no royal family in America. The closest thing we have is Obama (don't get me wrong, Obama is the homeboy) and... Paris Hilton. Shoot me.

- Now that Kate Middleton is to marry the prince I am this much further from becoming a princess. Damn her. I'd hate her if she wasn't so darn cute.

- Hey Prince Harry... I always thought you were the cuter brother... No? I'll stop while I'm ahead.

I am feeling some royal envy. And I shouldn't. Because you know what? Princess is a state of mind.

priorities

“A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word to paper.”
-E.B. White

I have two midterms on Thursday. I locked myself in my room. I was determined to study. I wrote a poem instead. I'm not ready for my tests on Thursday. Anyways, here is part of the poem I wrote:

i am far older than you. my face
a worn map, my breasts a heaving
reminder. you ask me why i have never
married.

do you know now why i took you under
my skirt? i am a small planet with no moons.
i weep. i wanted better for you, but africa
has always been on fire— the women
flameswallowers. ashes in the heels of their boots.

things that make my heart skip a beat

“Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever... it remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.”

-Aaron Siskand

 

She really is my sunshine. I’m nineteen years older than her; sometimes I feel more like her mother than her big sister. I can’t wait to teach her all the things that took me so long to learn.

I think if I had more time I’d spend the whole day in the kitchen. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m definitely feeling oddly domestic lately, but I’m certainly not feeling THAT domestic.

ayeeyo- grandmother in somali

I was eleven years old when I met her for the first time, tall and proud, she reminded me of the sturdy oak tree that lived in our front yard. She spoke no English, and I spoke no Somali, but the same blood that flowed through her veins, flowed through mine. They say blood is thicker than water, and it is. It’s so thick that it can hold you down like a paper weight, or crush you until you turn to dust.

Two years ago my grandmother moved back to Somalia. She missed home so much she couldn't bear it anymore. I remember the day she left. I can't remember ever crying that hard.

We speak on the phone a couple of times a month. She has bought a home, a piece of land she can call her own, and she nurses her sick mother there. She tells me there is a bedroom for me when I come visit.

It's hard for me to speak to her on the phone: my throat closes, my voice chokes up. Her voice brings back so many memories- it's overwhelming the way that I miss her.

We speak in the Somali she has taught me, and it's often frustrating for me- the words are heavy and awkward in my mouth. My sentences choppy and broken, but she assures me that she understands. We talk about her time in America. She tells me that I am the only thing that ever made sense to her in this foreign land.

I dream of her every once in a while. In the mornings I wake up lonely.

to-do list

1) I want a garden. I want to make something beautiful with my own two hands. I want to get dirty. I want to eat strawberries from my backyard. This morning I took my little brother outside with me and we started tilling the land (I've always wanted to say that). We didn't really know what we were doing. We probably made a mess out of everything, but it felt beautiful.

2) I want to take pictures. I already do.. a lot, but I want to take pictures deliberately. I want to capture something beautiful that will last. I want to look back at now, at these times, and memorialize them. You can live forever in a photograph, and I've always wanted to feel infinite.

3) Study for midterms... errr. Two midterms next Thursday. I got out my books, spread them out all around me, and that's about as far as I got. It's sunny outside today. 'Nuff said.

xoxo

almost famous

I won't be happy till I'm as famous as God."
- Madonna (seriously. who else would say something like that?




i auditioned to be an extra in a movie called Gone that's being filmed in my city.

i'm going to be famous, i'm going to be famous, i'm going to be famous! imagine, little old me, a celebrity- whoever would have thought? (besides me of course...)

breakthrough

i'm going to try and post everyday. blogging used to be so comforting, but it's been so hard lately. finding the words, that is, but i shouldn't give up. if you write than i'm sure you understand how difficult it is not to be able to express yourself, the pain at not finding the right words, the fear of being misunderstood, and the accompanying overcompensating. you don't want to say too much, you don't want to say too little, and sometimes it's hard finding the balance. but then you do find the right words and it's glorious, and that feeling makes up for all the rest. it isn't easy writing- it is often difficult and painful and revealing, but it is worth it. and if i am going to write than i must write fearlessly. i owe it to readers, but more importantly, i owe it to myself.

awkward silence

these days my sentences are full of stomachs.
here's a quote.

Don't say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one. I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe. I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have to share my kingdom with you."
— Anaïs Nin

why i love quotes

“She likes being around other people; she just isn’t particularly comfortable talking to them. She supposes that she is some variety of voyeur, enjoying the spectacle, breathing in the atmosphere, while experiencing uneasiness when asked to become part of it. None of this makes her unhappy. The life of a wallflower, she often thinks, is not such a terrible life."

- Whitney Otto, A Collection of Beauties at the Height of Their Popularity: A Novel

this is so me.

baby sister

welcome to the world, sweet pea.
i'll write you a poem, just not right now.

"anything other than yes is no, anything other than stay is go"

i love you he says,
a bouquet.

i love you, too.
a mouthful of thorns.

sunday mornings

"I felt this awful obligation to be charming
or at least have something to say,
and the pressure of having to be charming (or merely verbal)
incapacitates me."
-Peter Cameron

(I found this quote on Erika's blog ChambanaChik. She's a lovely writer)

I feel this way. A lot, especially lately, and I don't know why. There's a part of me locked away inside myself, and the key isn't hidden in a patch of rosethorns, but it's here, right under my tongue. It's being trapped inside yourself. It's the comfort and constraints of a bone prison. It is the discomfort of suddenly forgetting the shape of you, of becoming too small for yourself.

And the girl you are locking away sleeps in a pit in your stomach and curls painfully against the soft pink of you. And you are thinking about everything in the world she deserves, everything in the world you deserve, and the thoughts make you want to crawl backwards into the earth, but you can't. And you want to cry, but you don't.

The days fold themselves into a ball and lodge themselves in your throat.
You don't sing. If you were sure God could hear you, you would, but you're not.
You swallow your songs.
You're too afraid of choking.

goodnight moon

if you walk outside
during the last quarter of the night
you can hear the moon slowly
forgetting the shape of the sky.

the night is not
so dramatic as it sounds

tonight there is nothing
but the night and her
deep promise.

"it's like you're homesick for a place that doesn't even exist"

i have been homesick lately;

wistful for a place just out of

eye's reach...

just shoot me

when the going gets tough
the tough watch television

true story, folks. it seems like the more i have to do in regards to school and work, the more time i have to watch tv.

so without further ado...

my favorite television couples:

1) Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf from Gossip Girl


my obsession love of gossip girl is no secret. and there is no love story i love more than the tumultuous, angst ridden one. and if i happen to love one half of this equation more than the other...? it's not like i imagine myself in her place too often. That'd be weird. And more than a little romantic creepy.

2. Dan Humphrey and Serena Van Der Woodsen from Gossip Girl

They'd be number one, but the fact that their parents are now married demotes them. In their defense they're no longer dating. There's just something about Dan: he's a tall, dark and handsome writer that has been published in the New York Times. What's not to love?

3. Lisa Cuddy and Gregory House from House

You watch House, right? Who doesn't watch House? And Cuddy and House's dysfunctional relationship has been a long time coming. He's an arrogant, brilliant jerk, and she is his strong, sassy supervisor: the only woman ever to be elected the hospital's dean of medicine.

4. Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler from Law and Order SVU

My relationship with Law and Order is a double edged sword. It's like watching a car accident. It sickens me, but I can't look away. I feel the same way about Benson and Stabler's not-quite relationship. They're partners, and they always have each other's back. Now that sounds like the foundation of a very healthy, happy relationship. Now if only Elliot could get rid of his pesky wife...

5. Kyle Richards and Mauricio Umansky in The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills

I'm a little embarrassed, but in my defense it was late at night and I was in a bad way. I was tired, and I had work in the morning, and a ton of reading to do. So to make myself feel better I reached for the remote, and The Real Housewives was on. I had never seen it before, in fact, I had scoffed at it, until I begun to watch it. The majority of the women and men on the show are skimpy, skanky airheads, but Kyle and Mauricio have something special. They're rich, they have five kids, and they live in a freaking mansion.
Now that I think about it, maybe the only reason their relationship seems so stellar is because of all the other dysfunctional relationships on the show. And let me just tell you, the bar is not very high.