Piercings=Pleasure

I pierced my own eyebrow yesterday.  I did it safely, with a sterilized hollow piercing needle, and a sterilized curved ring.  My husband is mad, because he detests my piercings.  He said in Syria, where he is from, the only women that have piercings are gypsies and whores.  But I really do not care.  I still beg and beg him to not smoke in the truck.  When he takes my brother to work in the mornings, he smokes with the windows up.  By the time I am ready to take our daughter to school, the car is full of smoke when I open the door, and it reeks.  It's horrible.  If he is not going to budge on the smoking issue, I am not going to budge on the piercing issue.  My piercings are not putting someone at risk for lung cancer, or emphysema, or anything else.   His smoking is.  He still smokes with us in the truck, and when he does go to pick our daughter up from school, she comes back and her hair reeks of smoke.  From now on, I am refusing to let our daughter ride with him anywhere, and I am not going to go with him anywhere in the truck.  I will go without him, because I do not want to end up with lung cancer or breathing problems  I plan to get my lip pierced soon.  I tried to sit down with him last night, and explain to him that my being pierced does not change my personality, or my heart.  It does not change who I am.  I had two piercings when we met, and he didn't say anything about them.  I don't understand why they are a problem now.  If he cares what his friends think, so be it.  Let them think what they want.  I know I am a good person, and a DAMN good mom, and my friends and family know what kind of person I am...and that is all that matters.  He wants me to change who I am, and I refuse to do that for ANYONE.  I am who I am, and if you don't like how I look, then don't look at me.  It's that simple.   

Until next time...

Marriage is a JOKE

I have come to the conclusion that marriage is a joke.  I have been unhappily married for almost eight years now...eight long, miserable, unhappy years.  My husband wants EVERYONE to do what he says.  Yet he WILL NOT listen to ANYONE, not even me.  He wants our marriage to be 100% him and 0% me.  I am so over it.  Those of you who who are friends with me on Facebook know that I have posted about our problems.  But none of you know just how bad it is.  It would be easy for me to just up and leave and go somewhere else, even to a shelter.  But when you have a kid, the game changes.  It's not that easy to just up and leave, especially when you have no job, no money saved, and nowhere to go.  I have few friends, as I don't trust people that much.  And most of them already have kids, and don't want another kid in their house.  Or they don't have kids, and don't like kids, and think I will be using them as an automatic babysitter.   

In the late summer of 2011, we got evicted, because my genius husband thought it would be a great idea to move into a house where the rent was $1050 per month.  GREAT idea-especially since he has no green card or work permit, and can't find a good job-and to top that all off, I was not working at the time.  He was CONSTANTLY late paying the rent, or not paying it at all, because he was sending the rent money to his kids in Syria.  So we got evicted.  My husband took us to a very bad, bed-bug infested motel down on OBT---Vacation Lodge.  I never felt like such a failure as a mom in my entire six years of being a mom.  I swore that, if that ever does happen again, I will not subject my daughter to living in a place like that ever again.  I will go to a shelter or sleep in my car.  I am not sure why my husband thought it would be a good idea to stay there...I guess because the loser owners were Arab, and he thinks all Arabs are perfect, honest, upstanding people.  But they were complete assholes.  We all kept getting bit by the bedbugs, and poor Salaam would get bad rashes where she constantly scratched them.  I would go every day to the owners and tell them that the bedbugs were in our room.  They moved us to another room, but that room had even more bedbugs.  I took a dead bedbug to my daughter's pediatrician, and he confirmed it was a bedbug-but I already knew it was.  I took the note that her pediatrician wrote, confirming it to be a bedbug.  The owners told me if we didn't like the place, then we can leave.  What a colossal prick.  I know karma will come back and bite both of them in the ass one day.  And I hope and pray I am around to see it.  The "security" guards there are fresh out of jail drug dealers, who are doing deals on the side while they are "working".  A woman got raped in that motel when we were there.  One of the janitors broke into a woman's room and raped her.  What an upstanding great husband I have, to take his wife and daughter to a place like that.

My husband has NO desire to better his life.  He has no green card and no work permit.  When we were both interviewed by immigration a few years ago, after he filed for his green card, they interviewed us separately.  They asked him:

my date of birth

my maiden name

my middle name

what date we got married

Salaam's date of birth

where we met for the first time

He got the answers to those questions WRONG-ALL of them.  to this day, he still can't answer any of the above questions.

   
He can't read or write English.  I told him about the church near us that gives FREE English classes every Monday night, from 7-9 pm.  Of course, he has some excuse about why he can't go.  He is happy as long as he has his computer, to get on Facebook, coffee, and his cigarettes.  He takes NO interest in our daughter's life.  He never plays with her, he never takes her anywhere.  He doesn't even know her teacher's name.  I am mom and dad to her.  He does not work, and does absolutely NOTHING in the house.  I cook, clean, do laundry, go buy the groceries, take care of Salaam, do her homework with her, take her to school.  Damn, I am TIRED.  I am not asking him to do it all, but hell, help me out, at least once in awhile.  


I am extremely unhappy in my marriage.  I wish my ankle were healed, so I could get a job, and file for divorce.  My husband stole my happiness for so many years.  He tried to suppress me and what makes me happy.  He wants me to sell my guitars, not wear make up or perfume, take out my piercings...he is miserable, so he wants ME to be miserable with him.  I refuse to.  I am unhappy in my marriage, but I love life, and he will NEVER take away my passion for life.  And when I do finally get divorced, I WILL NEVER EVER get married again.  And if a once in a lifetime miracle happens and I do bite the bullet again...he WILL NOT be Arab, and HE WILL NOT BE MUSLIM.  Until I am able to get divorced, I just have to make the best of it, and concentrate on what makes ME happy, and my daughter.

Until next time...

More Piercings

Ok, so I have ordered some hollow piercing needles from ebay, and they will be in next week.  I am going to attempt  to pierce my eyebrow and lip.  The needles were really cheap, so I am going to be brace and try to do them myself and save some $.  I figure I am not able to work yet.  so by the time i AM ready to go back to work, when my ankle is healed, the piercings will be healed up.

I want to get another tat soon too.  I want to get it on my inside right wrist.  I want it to say "CM Punk" with his logo.  I am not sure how much that will cost, but I hope to save up for that real soon.  He is such an inspiration to me, and it will mean a lot to me to have this done.

Until next time...

I am ME-Simply Sandy

I have noticed some of my convert American friends have changed their name to "Muslim" ones, whatever that means.  I remember my husband, Salaam, and I went to go visit a friend of his recently.  We got there, and I introduced myself to his friend and his friend's family as Sandy.  I remember my husband's friends' wife was in the kitchen, making tea.  I heard her say, "Um Salaam, Um Salaam."  I didn't answer her, as I didn't think she was talking to me.  She said again, "Um Salaam."  My husband said, "She is talking to you."  Ok, so that made me a little upset. Now I know Um Salaam means mother of Salaam.  But I had introduced myself when we got there as Sandy.  If she didn't remember my name, she could have called me 'sister".  I AM NOT Um Salaam-I am SANDY.  My mom gave me my name and I have NO intention of ever changing it.  I would never dishonor my mom like that, and I happen to like my name.  I am not Arab, I am not Um anything, I am Sandy...simply Sandy.

Until next time...

Finally Friday

Have you ever felt like you just don't fit in?  I feel that way almost all the time.  I am too American for the Muslims in the mosque.  I have a tattoo, three piercings in once ear, four in another, a tongue piercing, and a nose piercing.  I also listen to music, wear nail polish, let my daughter celebrate birthdays and Halloween.  So of course, many Muslims think that is "haram", which means forbidden, I can't do that.  I actually had a facebook friend, a Muslim sister, unfriend me because I told her I celebrate birthdays.  Good riddance.  Live your life inside a box, in black and white.  I will live mine outside the box, in color.  The thing is, if you come to America (the mosque I used to attend was mostly Arabic), don't expect US to adapt to YOUR culture.  I expect YOU to adapt to OURS.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I am not saying that American culture is better than any other...I am saying this...Example:  (And this is a true story...I have actually heard many of my husband's friends say things like this)  A man comes here from from Saudi Arabia, and attends mosque here in America.  The Imam (religious leader) is from Pakistan.  Well, of course, because the man is Arab and the Imam is not, he has a problem with it.  So he puts whispers in ears of those in the community...hey, we are Arab, and of course, Islam came from Arabia, so the Imam should be Arab!  How can a non-Arab Imam teach Arabic (even though many non-Arabs can speak Arabic as well as an Arab).  And all the Arabs in the community agree with him, and get the board to elect an Arab Imam.  So the Arab Imam is saying his lectures in English.  The community says, NO!  We are ARAB, so the lectures MUST be in ARABIC!  So...the lectures are then in Arabic.  So the few American converts you did have are now completely gone, as they can't speak or understand Arabic.   Wait, though...the women pray in the same prayer area as the men!  NO!   This is HARAM!  They tell the Imam, no, this is not right!  Let's move the women and children to obscurity, either in a completely different building, or better yet, upstairs, so they can be ghosts, and no one can see them.  And, who cares if they can't see the Imam or hear him.  Women don't HAVE to pray in the mosque.  WE, THEIR HUSBANDS, can tell them what the khutbah (Friday prayer) was about.  Ok, so...now you have an all Arab mosque, where the khutbah and all the classes are in Arabic, you have no American Muslims coming.  It's just like home, says the community!  COMPLETE CRAP!  If you want to be in a mosque where only Arabic is spoken, and women are treated like ghosts and sent upstairs or to another building, where they can't see or hear the Imam, then GO BACK HOME!!!  WE MINGLE HERE WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX!  If you want women to be ghosts, then by all means, take a plane back home.

On the flip side, I am Muslim, and I wear hijab, and I don't feel fully accepted by Americans.  Not all Americans of course.  But I feel like all eyes are always on me, because I am Muslim.  If I took off my hijab, then no one would know I am Muslim.  It's a struggle, constantly looking for a place to fit it. 

This is where wrestling and music come in...

I have been to my local mosque, wearing my piercings, and have been rudely asked about them or had rude comments said to me.  On the other hand, when I attend concerts, or wrestling shows, I am completely accepted.  I remember when I saw Bruce Springsteen a few years ago at the TD Waterhouse Center here in Orlando.  After the show, my brother and I were heading to my car in the parking lot.  There was a gathering of people there, so we went to see what was going on.  Many of the Springsteen fans had gathered outside after the show, telling stories about Bruce Springsteen.  We all talked about what our favorite album was, how many times we had seen him in concert, all the memories the fans that were there from New Jersey had about seeing him there before he hit it big.  It was magical.  And not ONCE did anyone treat me like an outsider or like I should not be there.  Not one person commented on my hijab, either inside the arena or outside in the parking lot.  Yet when I wore my nose ring to the mosque one day, during Friday prayer, a sister came up to me, and very rudely said, "What did you do to your nose?"  Like my nose ring had any bearing on her life whatsoever.  At the end of the day, how is my having a nose piercing hurting her or making any kind of impact on her life?  It isn't.  So go along your way and be miserable.  Just don't take me with you.

In wrestling, and in life, my hero is CM Punk.  Those that know me personally know that.  He is Straight Edge...he doesn't smoke, doesn't drink, doesn't do drugs, and doesn't have promiscuous sex.  He is extremely disciplined.  I can imagine the pressure he gets from others, especially working in a business like WWE, where you are constantly on the road.  I am sure there are days he gets pressured...but he doesn't cave.  I am Straight Edge too.  I feel accepted at wrestling shows.  We are all there to have fun and see our favorite wrestlers.  Not to point out the shortcomings (or what some view as shortcomings) of others.  I can wear my CM Punk shirt and my piercings there, and no one will judge me.  Imagine me walking in my mosque, wearing my CM Punk t shirt and my piercings.  I am going to do that one day soon, and i will post the reaction I get, lol! 

I love a lot of things in life.  College football, reading, writing, and many others.  But I am passionate about only a few.  Two things I am passionate about is wrestling and music.  I ordered a CM Punk shirt and a rubber CM Punk bracelet, and they both came in the mail yesterday.  I tried them on, and I felt...different.  I felt more self-confident, I felt stronger, I felt...like everything is going to be ok.  I know you non-wrestling fans will never understand it.  But wrestling is in my blood, and I have loved it since I was eight years old, and I will love it until the day I die.  My daughter loves it too.  And I am glad that she and I can go to the wrestling shows and spend quality time together.  That means a lot to me.  and to her.  :)        

I am seriously thinking about starting a progressive mosque here in Orlando.  One where we can all feel free to be who we are and what we are.  One that is accepting of everybody, no matter what race, gender, walk of life, etc.  just accepting of others...piercings and all.  :) 

Until next time...proudly Straight Edge...proudly tatted...proudly pierced...