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Entries in blogging breaks (5)


Oh, Hey. I Found My Password. That I Never Lost.

Oh my god, y'all. It took me like twenty minutes to get back into this blog.

This is like when you avoid calling someone you were close to for a long time, and you're afraid it's going to go badly:

Me: Oh, hey, Friend Who I Haven't Talked in a Long Time and Totally Don't Have an Excuse for Not Calling, this is Faiqa!

Friend Who I Haven't Talked in a Long Time and Totally Don't Have an Excuse for Not Being Better About Calling: I'm sorry... Faiqa? I don't know who that is.

And, you know, with a name like "Faiqa", they clearly DO know who I am, but they act like they don't because... THEY HATE ME NOW.

That's never happened to me, but I am terrified that it will. Anyway, this is how it was when I was trying to log in to my blog tonight. 

I type in my login.

I type in my password.

It tells me it doesn't recognize me.


Anyway, then, I go to the Customer Support thing for Squarespace and it's all "DOMAIN NOT FOUND."

I am looking at the website. It's right here. It exists. 


I go through what feels like an infinite loop of asking questions and trying to email customer support until... I find the answer! LEGACY PLATFORM.

Apparently, I have to go to the back entrance of Squarespace because I'm that irrelevant on the Internet now. Like, hey, the front door is only for people who have still have a Twitter account and would never bother to follow Taye Diggs back. 

Anyway, here I am at the back entrance, and I've only kept up with my blog the way one keeps up with vacuuming the coils under one's refrigerator. FTR, one vacuums coils under the refrigerator when one's refrigerator keeps freezing all the vegetables and the refrigerator repair dude comes over and charges one $85.00 to tell one that vacuuming coils is even a thing.

Yes. I am that level of grown up now. It has been a while, Internet.

I read an article yesterday that sort of tipped me over the edge on getting back into blogging regularly. It was an article called "Can Blogs Rebuild America" on Parent Hacks which is curated by author/blogger Asha Dornfest.

(Are they still called articles? Do you still curate content? Is everyone just an "author" now? They did not give me a guidebook to terminology on the way in through that back door. All I got was shame and confusion. Like my childhood).

Asha writes about creating community once again through blogging in order to transcend social media strictures and identity lines in a way that inspires change and connection: 

I don’t think it’s unrealistic to say that if we did this [started blogging again], with the influence we have now, it could light a spark that could eventually make a difference in the state of our country. Idealistic? Yes. Naive? I don’t think so. Actually, I don’t care. America is fractured, and I’m willing to throw ideas at the wall for fixing it. Let’s bring an experimental mindset to this. Ask ourselves, what if? 

I will not kid myself into thinking that I have enough influence to make any significant impact. I am, after all, someone who just arrived through the door embarassingly marked "LEGACY PLATFORM," but I think I can make a little bit of a difference.

Like, enough of a difference.

I can maybe connect with people again without the Facebook algorithm deciding whether I make it into someone's consciousness or they make it into mine. Maybe I can be heard if the people who are listening actually WANT to listen to me. Maybe I can connect with someone who would never show up in my social media feed.



I'm going to blog every day until November 30th.

In case you're wondering, no, I do not have time for this, and the ruminations of why I don't care about not having time in and of itself will take up about three blog posts so that's good. The writing and content over the next thirty days are going to be so baaaaad most of the time.

Pictures of the dog.

Leaves changing colors.

Family vacation.

Stupid food pictures.

Boring stuff that probably matters to, like, three other people besides my family members who are too scared to say they don't care. 

But, sometimes, it is going to be good.

And that might matter. 




Compulsory "Here's Why I Left, And Now I'm Back."

It's difficult to do something without a definite purpose. At least, for me it's difficult. 

I have no idea why I still want to type words into this space. I want someone to read them, but not lots of someones. It's been two years since I wrote in the space where lots of someone's read what I was reading. 

I'm a fan of being vulnerable, but not when I don't know why I'm doing it. From the very start, all I wanted this space to be was a place where you could find some love when you expected to find passionate stands and moral certainty. I surprise people every day with my flexibility. There are walls that tell them that I am otherwise. That I'm tough. When, really, to be misunderstood as condescending, rude or rigid is one of the few things that will actually make me cry. I think, "It's okay if you don't like me, but you have to NOT like me for the RIGHT reasons!! I am not stuck up! I don't think I'm better than you! I have a thousand real flaws and you should pick one of THOSE as your deal breaker!"

A few years ago, a few people on the Internet said some things about me. People who didn't know me or what I was about and it impacted me far more than I thought. It's not being disliked that's eviscerating to my will to write. It's being misunderstood and being judged on qualities which I do not possess. But the waslking away has left me empty. It is not just here that I've stopped writing. It's everywhere. Other than an e-mail updating a friend or a facebook comment, I no longer write.

And this is not okay because writing is part of who I am. It's time to let go of that small moment where I was misunderstood. For someone who doesn't hold grudges, it's unsightly -- dare I say pitiable -- to hold on this long. I don't know who's still here, but thanks. And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have walked away for so long. You mattered to me and I didn't even tell you why because I felt like it was a silly reason. People said mean things! They called me a racist! They said I was condescending! Rude! WAH!

But that's it. And, now, it's not it. And I'm back because I can't really not write here. It's too much of who I am and it's felt very wrong to pretend it's not.


Yeah. I Don't Know.

Let's do this. Let's pretend like there's nothing to explain and it's all business as usual around here. 

Some bloggers share when they're having a hard time. I do not.

Not because the people who read here are not perfectly capable to do the best-shaky-shaky-shoulder-lean-dance- -like-evah, but, mostly because I don't like to talk when I'm having a hard time with a thing. Or twelve. I have very specific ways that I want... maybe need... people to react to my problems and when they don't react the way I want... need...

So, let's just pretend like I've been here all along, but you've found the stuff I've been writing somewhat off kilter. You're not totally sure it's even me. LOLCats? Movie Spoilers? Who is this person? Where is that brown person who was articulate and junk? I want my money that I never paid back.

No, wait.

Pretend I'm that blogger that posts recipes to stuff you're never going to make, but she's pretty cool so you go ahead and stop by if only to see what she's been eating until one day she writes something that you think is awesome and you're like, "aHA, that is why I come here!"

Also, pretend that this post isn't the aHA post. Pretend that later this week.

Today's post is a LOLCat post. Only not LOLCats, but Photo Booth pictures of me at 2a.m. because I can't sleep because I don't share my weird-o feelings with the Internet. See the last photo? My glasses are crooked because the left arm fell off.

In February.

I think I've said enough here.


I've Been Writing. Just Not Here.

Did I mention I got a day job? I did! You are now reading the words of an assistant to a montessori elementary class. I'm having a terrific time, etc., but have been regrettably busy "assisting" and what not. 

This doesn't mean, of course, that you've lost your full access pass to all things Faiqa.

Here's me being self righteous about world hunger.

From "Children Are Starving in Africa. So, Eat That." on Babble.

“There are children starving in Africa.”

I’m not making this up. That’s exactly what she said.

The kids hadn’t finished their lunches or something. She thought they were being wasteful. With a heart full of beautiful intention, she sought to imbue them with perspective. Instead her words plunged me into a deep state of irritation and anxiety.

There are children starving in Africa.


And then here I am being very un-self righteous. Because consistency is for weenies. 

From "Helicopter, Free Range or Honey Boo Boo Parenting? Who Cares" also on Babble.

According to Lenore Skenazy, author of Free-Range Kids, I’m a negative symptom of the stranger danger campaigns of the early and mid-eighties and am hindering my children’s developing self reliance and their independent social maturity. Parents who won’t let their children ride the subway alone or play in Central Park unattended are control freaks — obsessed with their own sense of security rather than their children’s good, don’t you know?

Wait, there's more. Let me tell you about my mutha, Dr. Freud.

From "Coming Soon to a Theater Near You: I've Become My Mother":

"Even thinking about the movie The Exorcist creeps me out. Like, just now, my husband just walked into our room while I was typing this and I almost peed in my pants because I thought it was the devil. I once tried to read The Exorcist, but couldn't finish it. The book makes the movie feel like that episode of "The Cosby Show" when they sang on the staircase and Rudy was all "BAAAABY!!" Which is to say that the movie is a cake walk because every time I finished a page of the book… I almost peed in my pants because I thought the devil was under my bed.

These days I find myself living in a benign, yet twisted version of my own horror movie."



There's even MORE. 

"I just wish that I could, like, possess the body of the body of someone who does PR for Mitt Romney. I'd be like, 'So, the good news is that we have a celebrity endorsement. The bad news is that it's Nikki Minaj."

From the Hey! That's My Hummus podcast episode "Voter Registration Laws and Creationism".

That title makes it sound like creationism and the attempts at revising voter registration are somehow related... which they probably will be if some people have their way.

Anyway, it was good catching up with you.

How are YOU?



In Case You Didn't Notice...

I'm taking a little time off from this blog.  Another week?  A month?

I have no idea.  I've always been irritated with all those "Sorry, I'm not posting, I'm awful, I really wish I had more time..."  I mean, it's your blog, right?  Post when you want.


It's not defunct.

I'm not abandoning it.

I'm just... um, regrouping.

I have a plan.  It might include world domination.

SERIOUSLY?  Of course it does.

In case you're craving a little Faiqa writing, which, again, SERIOUSLY?  Of course you are... head over here and marvel at the kind of personality that can intertwine socialist agendas, gleaming furniture and tirades against The Man all into one post.

If that's not convincing enough, there is a photo of Che Guevera in the post.

That completely sealed the deal, didn't it?  I know you so well.

Photo Credit